Just North of Perfect
by Jinxit13
Summary: WRITTEN OF A PROMPT: It all starts with Emma Swan's newly vitriolic - if not partly alcoholic - dance teacher, and ends with a romantic kiss in the rain. SWANQUEEN GOODNESS. Rating will change to M in the following chapters. Developed student/teacher dynamic.
1. Chapter One

**Just a little piece designed to keep me out of trouble whilst I recover from a chest infection.**

 **Please don't take it too seriously. I've had a clean-up off my account and decided to post this before it became lost forever...**

 **It's going to consist of three chapters and the rating will change to M for future chapters. Sorry for any mistakes in advance as this hasn't yet been proof-read - sorry!**

 **Reviews are always wonderful to get! Let me know if you think I should continue. Thanks!**

 **~{*}~**

 **FLASHBACK:**

Emma would have been hard-pressed to find another student who didn't feel the same way, but her stubbornly blinding sense of pride prevented her from admitting that she often felt way out of her depth treading through the halls of TEP at the tender age of eighteen. With a tricky schedule of daily ridicule and over-inflated egos to contend with as well as a giant, great, big target sign taped to her back, the cracks in her carefully sculpted ego were finally beginning to show. It had been easy for her to feel special in high school, surrounded by the likes of Ruby and Belle. They messed around, kept her on her toes and challenged her with a friendly side note. They were brilliant, but she'd strived to be better, learning the hard way that success didn't always follow suit. Arriving in New York City riding upon the coat-tails of a small town success only set her up to fail. At TEP, it was going to take much, much more than an emotive solo and a good pair of stilettos to make her stand out from the crowd. Emma Swan knew she should have been loving every second of her new life in New York - surrounded by performers who shared her passion for the spotlight and eating cold pizza at 3am in the morning - but as she watched her classmates excel in ways she could not, it dawned her that perhaps her talent was not one-of-a-kind after all.

It didn't help that her teacher, Ms Mills, seemed determined to crush her self-belief beneath the curve of her four-foot cane with deafening precision. Every morning, the formidable stature strutted across the room as if she were a skyscraper and her newest student were a mere crack in the wall, regarding her with a look that balanced precariously between amusement and disdain. Ruby, who was only faring slightly better against the wrath of Ms Mills herself, tried her best to assure Emma that Ms Mills was only trying to hinder her progress because she was jealous of her potential; that her antipathy didn't stem from Emma's inadequacies, but her own. And, they wholeheartedly agreed that whilst all Ms Mills had ever had to cling to was a fleeting moment of notoriety, each girl had the ability to achieve all that their teacher never could. Pitying Regina Mills made withstanding her scrutiny a little easier; however, Emma still had to pirouette her way through a constant barrage of insults each morning whether she liked it or not. She vowed to continue pirouetting with a shit-eating smile, safe in the precious knowledge that her teacher couldn't make it through the day without drowning her sorrows in a bubbling vat of alcohol.

By the time the month of November rolled around, bringing all of its musical festivities along for the ride, the teacher's fiery brown eyes honed in on Emma like a heat-seeking missile hell-bent on delivering a deathly blow. With her gym bag hastily dumped in the corner of the room, Emma slipped into rehearsals with her head bowed, content with intention of slipping right under Ms Mill's scathing radar. She begins her stretches with Ruby chattering away excitedly, seemingly thrilled at the prospect of celebrating Bonfire Night in Central Park with some of Ms Mills' more senior students in tow. Emma's hushed tone attracts no more attention than usual as she sinks downwards, feeling the familiar groan of aching muscles pulling at her groin. Warming her tense muscles under the watchful gaze of Ms Mills is painful enough, but when she closes the distance between them, Emma's stomach begins somersaulting in ways her body would never be physically capable off.

"Miss Swan, it's hardly a split when there's a gigantic, god-damn _gap_ between your pelvis and the floor." Ms Mills barks, illustrating her point perfectly well with a polished shoe wedged in-between Emma's crutch and the floor. "You need to loosen up a little, otherwise you know where the door is."

Emma presses her hips down painfully, feeling the unnecessary burn tingle it's way upwards, towards her spine. Then, with a huff, she wretches herself off the floor and reaches for the barre, standing shoulder to shoulder with a smirking Ruby. "Shut up." she mumbles under her breath, pushing Ruby further along the barre. With a face like thunder, Emma slides into the third position, tensing with Ms Mills reaches for her hips, tugging her into the correct position with careful force.

"Class has barely started and you seem awfully...hot and bothered, Miss Swan. Is there a problem?"

With her back to her teacher, Emma blows the hair from her eyes and tries to think of an equally biting response. Instead, she settles for a quick "I'm fine," through gritted teeth. She eases her leg down from the barre, which is set just above waist level, and then makes a deliberate show of wrapping her hand around her calf and extending her leg until her toes are almost touching her forehead.

"Better." Ms Mills concedes, although she appears to find the grimace on Emma's face more than just a little satisfying. "But perhaps you should consider investing in some cod-liver oil for those decrepit joints of yours. It's like WD-40 for the more flexibly-challenged."

Emma denies the pull in her stomach which tells her to twirl around and square up to the bitchy brunette, settling with balling her hands into tight, shaking fists instead. Ms Mills is standing so close, she can feel the warmth of her teacher's breath swirl against the back of her neck, and even the faint lace of rum cursing through her veins can't quite eclipse the scent of her heavy perfume. Regina Mills, just as insatiable in the classroom as she was in life, radiates sensuality with infuriating ease; from the way she saunters across the room wielding her cane like a whip, to her choice of risqué leotards, or the way she compels the rooms attention with a bored flick of her wrist. She had the upper hand and Emma knew it.

That's why, when she begins circling Emma with the feral grace of a cougar toying with it's prey, Emma finds it impossible to concentrate in class. It's why she forgets the steps to routines she _knows_ inside out, and why her legs tremble with the weight of her trepidation before she launches into the next movement. Ms Mills' proximity is unnerving, and exhilarating, and Emma doesn't know if she's terrified or turned on.

The lesson drags over, falling into lunch period, and whilst most of Ms Mills' student's are happy to finally be released, Emma takes her time collecting her belongings together. Ruby, covered in a slick layer of sweat, promises to wait outside with a roll of her eyes, wincing at the ache already working it's way back into her joints. Ms Mills worked them hard, harder than she had in weeks, only relenting in her quest to break Emma down when the blonde did the exact opposite and came out swinging instead. She stood watching as Ms Mills slid over to her desk, mounted two foot above floor-level, and dabbed her chest with a gym towel. Emma pulled a tank top over the top of her sports bra, only glancing back when she reached the door. Ms Mills is drinking from a canteen, hidden in her desk, and the small way she grimaces as the liquid melts upon her tongue is not lost on Emma. It doesn't take another addict to deduce that it's not water in her canteen, and Emma forces herself to look away when Ms Mills casts a surreptitious scowl in her direction, clearly not expecting to find Emma staring at her. Their eyes lock, and for a moment, Regina's devil-may-care attitude lurks in the way her lips pull upwards, as if daring the blonde to say something, but then she looks away, and Emma is forced to wonder if she imagined the brief look of shame and self-loathing that clouds over her teacher's frustratingly beautiful face often. She opens the door silently, resting her hand against the wood for a moment. "Push me as hard as you want Ms Mills," she says, levelling her teacher with a defiant smile. "I can take it."

With a quirk of her brow, Ms Mills lets out a sharp bark of laughter before offering her a tight smile. "Be careful what you wish for, Miss Swan."

Leaving the door to swing shut quietly behind her, Emma threw her gym bag over her shoulder and walked away, smiling internally. She could sense that her resilience was _finally_ beginning to unsettle her teacher and so, for the first time in months, Emma slept soundly that night. Ms Mills wasn't used to her students standing in line with her, matching her blow-for-blow, and the blonde wondered if she was just imagining the burgeoning sense of respect seeping into her teacher's scornful bravado. Their feud transgressed throughout the month-long period of November with both women refusing to relish control. The blonde did all she could to worm her way beneath the smooth panes of Regina's skin, be it with a smug smile, snug leotards or a wink in the right direction. She transformed herself into a powerful hybrid – one that could withstand the wrath of Ms Mills – whilst secretly enjoying every moment that her teacher squirmed uncomfortably or stormed out of the classroom in a fit of rage. Emma's seemingly impervious reactions to the insults slung her way quickly irritated the life out of Ms Mills and the newly-formed diva watched with delight as her teacher huffed, puffed and almost exploded with indignation.

The blonde's lifelong habit of harbouring inappropriate crushes had caught up with her once again. She had always had a bit of a thing for bitchy brunettes – women that is – and goading her best friend, Ruby, throughout her high-school career had been one of her major sources of entertainment. Now though, it seemed the taste lingering on her tongue belonged to a different women entirely, one that needed to be defused like a World War II bomb. She recognised that there was the merest hint of unresolved tension between them and she'd started with a little bit of eye-contact and innocent grazes as a means of frustrating the brunette, only to discover that her wanton advances didn't go entirely unrewarded, resulting in Emma wishing that her teacher would just give in and kiss her. It didn't happen, though. For all of the blonde's subtle advances, each one designed to entice her teacher into as many inappropriate positions and innuendos as possible, Ms Mills never missed a trick. The blonde was mischievous in her attempts to wage a war on Regina's libido, but she wasn't cunning enough to succeed. She had seriously underestimated the teacher's restraint, overestimated her own, and then totally forgot ten to factor in the fact that Ms Mills was an old-hand when it came to the art of seduction.

Just when their tepid relationship settled into a comfortable rivalry, TEP's Headmistress, Marian Wells, added fuel to the fire by handing the blonde one of several coveted Golden Tickets. It gave Emma a much-needed boost, and she couldn't help but feel a little smug as she entered the dance studio one snowy December morning with the Golden Ticket clasped firmly in her hand. The boost it provided meant she felt smug enough to walk away from her teacher when she sidled over to her, sporting her all-too-familiar sneer; smug enough to answer back when Ms Mills tried to make an example out of her in front of the class. She knew she was on probation - the result of upstaging her teacher in a war of the rages - but then, when Ms Mills riled her feathers with the lure of a dance-off – clearly expecting her to back away from the challenge – Emma decided to step up to the plate and come out swinging once again. Her nerves settled in her stomach like a breeze block when Ms Mills cocked an eyebrow in her direction, publically questioning her ability to keep up. With a grind of her teeth & a clap of her hands, Emma Swan readily stepped into the middle of the circle, boldly declaring her readiness to dance a Tango with Regina Mills to the rest of the class.

They began by rehearsing in the most secluded corner of the room together, but what was meant to be a quick rehearsal transgressed quickly into a battle of the egos. Emma listened carefully to the track Ms Mills had chosen for them, and realised that when she listened closely, the music possessed a unique ability to match her mood. When she wanted to find it gloomy she did, but it could just as easily be soulful, passionate and uplifting. For Emma, on that snowy morning, the music wasn't beautiful at all, though. It nagged her, reminded her that time was passing; it set her on edge; it was relentless. She allowed her teacher to railroad her into submission, waited for the pain of defeat to strike and felt nothing but disappointment as her shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. With a smile only less smug than usual, Ms Mills told her to close her eyes, to picture herself dancing with someone she trusted implicitly, and the blonde suddenly realised that the list of people she trusted was woefully short. Shockingly, Ms Mills name was actually settled right at the bottom, amongst a list of names Emma knew would always forgo sympathy in favour of brandishing her with the truth. Slowly, she became aware of her teacher's firm hand on her back, and although the slip of Ms Mills' finger's across her thigh made her face flush, it was bettered once more by the chest to chest hold that she instigated with some blasé comment about Argentinian versus American tango.

Dancing with the blonde was definitely Regina's idea of bitter sweet torture. She allowed herself a brief moment, simply to enjoy the intimacy of another woman in her arms, and then began to increase the difficulty of their choreographer, easing Emma into the routine she had mapped out for them. She grabbled with the desire to smile against Emma's neck, as she couldn't really focus on the movements with all of her nerve ends jangling and her pulse thudding loudly in her ears anyway. The rest of the room was just background noise and Ms Mills decided that if she was going to maintain her upper hand then it was time to up her game - spectacularly - she was done toying with the blonde's emotions; it was time to play Emma at her own game and wreak havoc with her libido instead.

Class ended with a bang; Ms Mills waited for the orchestral symphony to heat up, sweeping the blonde into a strong, fearless embrace. Then, with achingly slow tension, she wrapped her leg around Emma's waist and dipped into a sensual pose. From there, it was the self-proclaimed diva who relished control, pretending Ms Mills was hers for the taking and no one else's. She sensed her teacher's surprise as she leapt into the lead, but kept her expression impassive as they marched across the floor. She flirted with the boundaries of proper teacher/student conduct, turning Regina away from her whenever the teacher trained to regain her position of control. They each rose to the challenge admirably, performing with bated breath and coloured cheeks. The warmth of Regina's hands seeped through Emma's leotard, raking her nails over exposed skin with an air of warning. Stormy brown eyes narrow in warning & Emma flicks her leg delicately between her teacher's thighs, holding her breath. She can't help but feel a little flustered, secretly enjoying the frustrated growl emitted through gritted teeth. They dance flawlessly together though, matching each other point for point. Ms Mills makes a valiant effort to breathe when the blonde's hand brushes against the underside of her breast, but then she realises the alternative means crashing to the floor, so she lets the diva grope her with the traces of a light snarl on her lips. The crushing crescendo built against them with unstoppable force. They span across the vast expanse of Ms Mills' studio, then came to a mind-blowing halt with the teacher's leg wrapped firmly around her student's waist. When the music finally dies down, the blonde realises her teacher is panting and the look on her face is so far beyond propriety, Emma actually finds herself rooted to the spot, torn between apprehension and arousal. For a moment, she actually thinks Ms Mills is going to kiss her right there in front of the entire Musical Performance group. Instead, the brunette dismisses the mass of overly perplexed student's with a flick of her wrist and Emma's classmates leave, sniggering over their teacher's apparent defeat.

"You're just so fucking _perfect_ , aren't you?" she snaps, finally breaking away from Emma's uncomprehending gaze. She sounds more anguished than angry though, and the blonde finds herself storming after Ms Mills, only stopping when the teacher slammed a pedicured hand down on her desk. She notices, and not for the first time, that unlike the other teachers, Ms Mills doesn't have any personal effects. Her desk is achingly bare, devoid of anything the could be considered remotely sentimental. Her phone is the only item she has on display, and that's only because it provides the soundtracks to their lessons.

"I wasn't trying to undermine you." she says, worrying her lip. Ms Mills reaches for her gym bag and pulls out a flask, hastily unscrewing the cap. "Don't," Emma beseeches, gently placing her hand over the teacher's to stop her from lifting the flask to her lips. "It's not worth it."

Her teacher's shoulders slump forward and she raises her head slowly, her face contorted with angry disbelief and a fleetingly curiosity. Her eyes are sharp as they fall into Emma's and she notices that the diva almost appears to be waging a silent war with her. Sucking in a heavy breath, she leans forward hesitantly and then folds her arms around her, pulling the former Broadway star into a tight embrace - the slight weight of Regina against her chest, the smell of her freshly washed hair suddenly seems worth admitting defeat for, and so she hugs her teacher a little tighter, until she feels Ms Mills relax against her arms. She glides her hands hesitantly over the warm dip in her teachers spine, feeling her shiver in response, and dares to press closer. She could never get enough of this. Spurred on by this fleeting moment of vulnerability, Emma dares to do the one thing she promised herself she'd never have the guts to actually do and closes the distant between them, pressing her lips against Regina's in a kiss that's a little too desperate and a little too insistent. For one heart-stopping moment, Ms Mills kisses her back, and Emma can feel the longing behind her touch. It's enough to make her feel invincible and Emma could have sworn she was floating, but when she moves to thread a gentle hand through her teacher's hair, Ms Mills abruptly shoots backwards.

"You need to leave.

The blonde is just about to interject when Ms Mills holds up a silencing hand and shakes her head sternly. "Just go. Trust me, Miss Swan, I'm more baggage than even you can handle. Leave. Now!"


	2. Chapter Two

**Thank you so much for your reviews! They really inspire each new chapter and this pairing has totally excited me.**

 **It's not quite the chapter I had planned, but I couldn't leave their chemistry alone so there's a possibility this will now consist of**  
 **four chapters instead of three.**

 **Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy and please remember to let me know what you think!**

 **~{*}~**

Regina Mills strolled across the opulent ballet studio for the first time in two weeks, hoisting herself up onto the window ledge that overlooked the park below. Relentless storm clouds filled the large, empty classroom with white noise as rain slashed heavily against the window, steaming up the glass. The brooding sunrise cast a dim orange glow over the city, creating a beautiful ambiance that seeped into the studio and held her tightly within its grasp. Regina let out a deep, shaky breath that she didn't even realise she was holding and titled her head backwards, her eyelids fluttering open and then closed against the dim light of dawn. Her breathing was deep and relaxed, all the muscles in her face and body were totally at peace, like a baby in its' first throes of slumber before REM kicked in, but she couldn't quite squash the excited, almost pathetic anxiety that threatened to overwhelm her. She cradled a freshly squeezed smoothie in one hand, flexing her finger's one-by-one to release the last of her tension. The other clutched at a book she had been tirelessly trying to finish over the course of Thanks Giving to no avail. Her gorgeous nephews, Noah and Jake, who were both under the age of five, had insisted upon teaching Regina the ins and outs of their neighbourhood before effortlessly roping her into a live, living room performance of That's What Makes You Beautiful. Video footage was easily accessible should she one day require proof that she wasn't a cold-hearted, bitter, never-has-been bitch from New York after all, but the time spent with her nephews had made the family-shaped hole in her life into an even deeper void; one that couldn't be filled with liquor-flavoured chocolate.

All too quickly, Regina's time to say goodbye had come and gone, and it was time for her to face the music. She'd returned to find that her prolonged absence from NYADA had predictably sparked an unhealthy supply of potentially career-damaging and fallacious rumours, all of which had wormed their way through the school's manic chain of gossip at a frantic pace. She was well aware of the fact that she was now the new 'hot topic' of the week thanks to a heads up from Mrs Marian Wells, TEPS Headmistress. A small selection of student's, namely the leech that nearly always confused her left from her right, had sent a faux array of rumours flying, suggesting that something was going on between herself and Emma Swan, which although she had thankfully been quick to deny since her student couldn't do it herself, she wasn't whole-heartedly satisfied that the rumour-mill had been successfully halted. With all those absurd rumours circulating around TEP's campus, Regina's mind was slowly spinning rapidly out of control. The rumours could be addressed quickly and somewhat painlessly, but the Winter Showcase was another issue altogether.

All of TEP's students were required to stick to their timetables during the tension-riddled weeks leading up to the Annual Winter showcase, unless of course they were considered talented enough in their chosen major to contribute in some way. In that case, they would be taken off timetable to be involved in the production. Many were required to volunteer or be involved in the pre-show preparation, but freshman were strictly prohibited - except, of course, Little-Miss-Perfect. Somehow and through no fault of her own, Regina Mills had been forced to fill a gap within the show's production and after many highly-strung fits of denial, she was coerced by Marian Wells into bittering accepting that Emma Swan was probably her best chance of winning. Although no showcase was designed to promote the teacher's talent, every dance instructor at TEP took it personally, and they all competed amongst themselves to make sure that one of their own students won. Regina knew she was screwed the moment her strongest senior broke his ankle and Mrs Wells demanded that she provide a new talent within a week. Somehow, that responsibility had spontaneously and rather unfathomably landed on Miss Swan and neither of them were particularly happy about it. Emma was finding it difficult to fall asleep with such confused and conflicted emotions weighing heavily on her conscious, but it was what it was, and Regina Mills was wrestling with keeping her feelings mutual following their stupid fuck up, but they were what they were.

Ms Mills sighed heavily, watching the garbage trucks prowl the streets below, beeping loudly, as the rain continued to paint New York City in dull tones of grey. She reminded herself that while there were a few students who were much more graceful than Emma, and there were many more who she considered to be more aesthetically pleasing than Little-Miss-Encyclopaedia, there were even a few student's who were both, none of them managed to cause a lump to form in her throat like Miss Swan inevitably did. It really was catch twenty-one. If she managed to contradict all those rumours by plastering Emma the colour red with a few carefully thought-out insults, slamming her every move and doubting the reason for her very existence, then all the speculative untruths would cease and no one would be any the wiser. No one would have to know how she felt about the pint-sized diva with surprisingly long, toned legs and wantonly kissable lips. On the other hand, upping the ante with her onslaught of insults would have a negative effect on their one-to-one sessions which, because of their headmistresses deep insistence, were due to start some time that week.

The teacher wrestled with her conscious as time rolled on, sipping the sweet Strawberry smoothie in-between turbulent musings. Nerves failed to cease despite the calming effect of rain slashing down outside the window and the blonde's lack of existence in her classroom only made the tension worse. After a long stretch of uninterrupted silence, the gentle hum of student's exuberant chatter echoed through the long, expansive corridors, slowly filling the classroom with signs of life. Regina Mills jumped down from the window ledge, taking up her usual position behind the desk as one member of the class after another filed into the room. Her thwarted attempts not to look every time a new face appeared resulted in her stealing regular sideward glances instead. But, by the time Ruby appeared, she was already under a disproportionate amount of scrutiny. A small buzz of discreet chatter echoed in her ears, causing a smirk to replace her usually impassive expression. Piecing together the small snippets of information she overheard, combined with what Marian Wells had already told her, she learnt that the student's apparently suspected that she'd been fired for her lack of sobriety, eliciting wrongful affairs with members of the staff, or maybe even the unrelenting bullying of a student. There were far more ridiculous suggestions too; like being cast to play Cruella Deville, or allegedly being caught in various 'positions' with another member of the faculty. She scoffed at the likelihood of that happening - she was going through a _very_ unfortunate dry spell in regards to her 'activities' outside the classroom and stealing a glimpse of Emma Swan now and again was all she had. Still, if it was the only thing she was going to get, she'd take it.

She demanded all student's attention with a smack of her cane, sending them scattering into the middle of the room so that she could line them up with military like precision. Erin, who Ms Mills had otherwise renamed the class Leech, combined standing to attention with sending Ms Mills nauseatingly pathetic glances, as if she really thought Regina would be offended, and Robin, one of her stronger students, pretended not to notice the unsettling tension in the room. Ms Mills swung her cane behind her shoulder's and sauntered along the line of nervous student's - minus one defiant diva - like a general inspecting her troops. Maybe there was a fall-back career in the military for her after all, should teaching fail to appease her appetite for blood, sweat and tears.

"Sorry to disappoint you Julian, but I have _not_ been drafted in to play Cruella Deville in a new Broadway adaption, although I would suggest you give it a try should the opportunity miraculously come your way." Julian's eye's immediately widened. His humiliation was easy to read. She smirked, continuing to walk the line with deliberate slowness. "Nor Erin, did I have an affair with a student." she turned to face the blushing girl who transformed the colour of a ripe beetroot. At least she had the sense not to argue back. "Not only are you all far to inexperienced to handle me, but it would also be _illegal_." Ms Mills continued to walk the line, pausing as if to speak and then continuing, keeping them all painfully on the edge. A worrying cocked eyebrow in Ruby's direction reminded them that no-one was safe. "Not that it's really any of your business Ruby, but I was also never caught with my legs behind my ears in the janitor's closet." she drawled, refusing the urge to poke her in the chest with the end of her cane. She allowed a heavily suffocating silence to stifle the ashamed student's before retiring to the front of the class. She broke the silence with a thump of her cane. "Pair up." she instructed, keeping her eye on the door. "Let's see how much time you've devoted to your dancing in my absence."

Outside, Emma clumsily shrugged away her worn-out trench coat as she hurried down the corridor and raced towards Ms Mills' classroom, cursing Belle for spring cleaning and deliberately hiding her alarm clock so that she could have a lie. She hated being late. She'd had this morning precisely planned for the past two weeks, even going so far as to have Ruby give her a much-needed makeover to enhance her natural sex appeal - if there was any. They'd discovered, after many diva-like tantrums from both Belle, Ruby and Emma alike that she really did have the longest legs of any known human. They went on for miles, and even though she'd been covered up all winter, they'd still retained some of their natural glow. Ruby used that as a starting point, and then enhanced her breasts which were decidedly more than just pancakes while drawing attention to her subtly defined abs. The overall look resulted in demure elegance that was ultimately classy, yet unstated and sexy at the same time.

Emma approached the classroom with considerable trepidation, adjusting her barely-there shorts and fitted-leotard carefully before finally stepping into the dimly-lit room. She instantly caught the teacher's concentrated gaze from across the room, scowling fiercely. When Emma turned to close the door, offering the teacher a fleeting glance of her toned thighs in the process, Mills looked as though she had momentarily forgotten how to breathe. The blonde's tousled hair framed a hesitant but smiling face, tentative and shy as her liquid blue eyes shone almost topaz gold in the light. The tasteful yet revealing choice in leotards was not lost on Ms Mills even as Emma Swan took a step forward and made an heroic attempt to calm the thundering of her heart. Oxygen was suddenly so scarce; quick, shallow breaths were required even as her eyes drunk in the perfection at the other end of the studio, her teacher seriously pondering the repercussions of pulling Emma aside for a quick make-out session.

Emma hung back nervously, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, still clutching onto the door handle behind her back. Ms Mills was leaning back against the rain-splattered window behind her desk, her legs crossed at the ankles, apparently about to scan through the playlist on her phone. She was wearing a sexy blazer and tailored leotard combination teamed with a sheer black skirt which was slashed up to the thigh. The sculpted blazer revealed an ample chest heaving in the orange beams of light that penetrated the studio's walls. It was tailored precisely to fit her tiny figure, and Emma soon became aware of the delicate bracelet adorning her slender wrist. Beautiful brunette tresses of hair fell loosely around her shoulders, eliminating Ruby's theory that without a pony tail firmly in place, her teacher's entire being would sag like a balloon. The shafts of orange light caused Regina's molten brown eyes to shimmer with unwarranted intensity. Her expression was schooled to impassive, but the vessels in her heart tightened frantically as Emma chanced another step, clearing her throat.

Before Emma could apologise for her poor time-keeping, Regina Mills was walking towards her, injecting a hint of practiced irritation into her voice. It was performance time. If there had ever been an ambiguity between them, there certainly wouldn't be after today's lesson. "Miss Swan, I wish I could say it's a pleasure to see you, but it isn't." She scolded, trying to sound more annoyed than she really was. A pang of guilt wrestled with her heart as the seemingly bewildered dancer - who looked so god-damned beautiful with her mused hair and flustered cheeks - stared at her with her jaw unhinged. Regina couldn't afford to be nice whilst being so intensely scrutinised by the wet fishes that made up the majority of her student body. Whatever happened in today's one-to-one session was sure to make it back to Marian Wells at some point, or maybe even Ruby, and that was like making a public announcement via a foghorn. Any attempts at a tactful yet discreet compliment in this lesson would have to wait until later. "Your sense of entitlement is breathtakingly arrogant even for you. Did it not occur to you that I have better things to do with my time than to reprimand you and your sorry little ass for poor timekeeping?"

She sensed danger as Emma's trademark straightening of her shoulders and flick of her hair signalled a potential comeback, but it never came. Instead, Regina convinced herself that the surge of guilt constricting the vessels of her heart were wholly justifiable as she continued with her quick-thinking solution to a potentially risky situation. Her career was at stake if she couldn't contradict those fallacious, pathetic rumours. "Although to be fair, your nose was on time it was just the long wait for the rest of you to arrive that made you late."

Ms Mills could see the impact of her words immediately in the slumped posture of the young performer who diverted her eyes to the floor. She had to steel herself from the crushing urge to blurt out an apology, pull the shaking girl into a massive bear hug and beg for forgiveness. She wanted to Emma to lash out at her, to challenge her authority further in order to justify her onslaught of insults, but it seemed as though the blonde was ready to submit to all authority and power over to her without further argument. Regina groaned inwardly, but hoped she'd done what she'd set out to do with a limited amount of carnage as a result. It was for the best, she reminded herself. She leant forward and licked her lips teasingly slow, careful not to get too close. "Is there something you want to say Miss Swan?" she whispered as they stood in silence, their chests heaving as if they'd just completed a passionate and forceful tango.

Emma knew that if dared to take the bait than she would be as good as done for it, but she never could resist a challenge and Ms Mills was handing her all the ammunition she needed to fight back. She gritted her teeth, levelling with the dark eyes in front of her, and attempted to let the remark go with a jut of her chin. She was fighting a losing battle, and then her eyes fell upon the smoothie on Regina's otherwise bare desk. "Is that the new rum and Strawberry flavoured smoothie?" she asked, forging innocence. Regina's face fell, her jaw immediately locking. "And there was me thinking my parent's were paying my tuition fee so that I could be taught dancing by a _sober_ and _respectable_ member of the facility. She allowed time for her words to sink in before adding a perfectly timed "but hey, I guess life is full of disappointments." The implication being that Ms Mills was a major one.

Regina was stunned into shocked silence as she ran her narrowed eyes over the blonde's slender form with dangerous intensity. How dare Emma challenge her authority in such a way that it questioned her personal as well as professional values? "If you'd like to talk about disappointment, maybe you should think a little more about the poor bastards you expect to part with their hard-earned cash to see you perform." Ms Mills snarled, mere inches away from Emma's undoubtedly soft lips which trembled with a mixture of anger and hurt. Regina couldn't tell which and she tried not to think about it. "And just the record, alcohol would make teaching you a lot more bearable." She whispered into the dancer's ear, causing her stomach to flutter at the sheer proximity of her body to the student's. Clearly the blonde was going to make it easy for her to dispel such rumours of a romantic tryst given Erin's confused expression as she strained to hear the hushed confrontation happening by the door, but Emma's words had undoubtedly burned a hole in her carefully crafted delusions that people hadn't noticed her lack of sobriety.

Undeterred by her classmates scornful sniggers, Emma squared her shoulders and stood at her full height, regarding her teacher obstinately. "I know I'm not the best dancer in this class.."

Seeing the affirmative smirk gracing Ms Mills' face, Emma's hands flew to her hips and for a moment, her outrage outweighed everything else. "But I'm not the worse, either, so why do you keep making the butt of your jokes? Do you _want_ to see me fail?"

For a brief moment, Emma thinks her words may have hit home. There's a fleeting moment of self-awareness in Ms Mills' eyes, and the biting retort toying with her tongue seems to die upon her lips. Emma finally gets her first glimpse of the jaded, washed up Regina Mills; the woman who realises that she's been reduced to making her student's suffer as much as she did when her promising career was cut short prematurely. The stricken look on her teacher's face reduces something inside of her to tears, but she holds herself together until Ms Mills leans into her, whispering against her skin in a savage whisper designed to kills it's victims with the sheer force of unbridled animosity. "You're treading on wafer-thin ice, Swan." Ms Mills warns, and her Emma's stomach is churning so violently, she knows she has to get out of the room before she gives the teacher the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

In a final declaration of defiance, Emma juts out her chin when she delivers the parting shot, struggling to hold her voice together. "I was so thrilled when I found out you were going to be my teacher, Ms Mills," she informs her, sombrely. "But you've made it more than clear that I have nothing more to learn from you."

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" Ms Mills asks incredulously, gripping the blonde's arm so tightly it's almost painful. She didn't think it was possible for her to feel any worse, but then a lone tear made it's way down the blonde's cheek accompanied by an adorable quiver of her bottom lip, and although Emma was quick to swipe away the evidence, the damage had been done. "You're going to kick me out anyway, right?" Emma asks with a hysterical half-laugh, not quite able to bring herself to meet the teacher's penetrating gaze. The magnitude of what she's managed to do, who she's managed to evoke, rains down on her like an avalanche, but she can't leave without throwing down the last punch. She owes it to herself, and the rage inside of her yells in delight. "You know what?" She grimaces, poking an unprepared Ms Mill's hard in the chest with a force not even she knew she was capable of. "You could not be more wrong about me. You could try of course, and I'm sure you will, but you would not be successful." Emma held the teacher's smirking gaze for a moment longer than she could really bare, trying to understand why she was suddenly the focus of the teacher's absolute, undivided attention upon her arrival, but it was useless and far too late. Ms Mills eyed her with cool detachment, her expression somewhat pained by Emma's very existence. She didn't seem fazed by the diva's doe-eyed mixture of hurt, betrayal and defiance, but then again, it was impossible to tell. She waits for a moment, her hand still wrapped around the student's wrist. Emma begins mentally rehearsing her apology to Mrs Wells, trying to justify her outburst; she's not a trouble-maker - she doesn't have an insubordinate bone in her body - but then again, Ms Mills ran her classes like a boot camp, not a school, and she just wasn't cut out for it.

"You can stay," Ms Mills informs her in a clipped tone, and Emma is so worked up that it takes her a moment to understand. When the words finally register, she stares at her teacher uncomprehendingly, looking every bit as shocked as her classmates. "Emma," Regina reiterates softly. "You can stay. But, if you ever speak to me like that again-" Emma nods her understanding, and her chin starts to tremble as she replays her name falling with such grace, it actually floored her. She ducks her head, and Ms Mills hesitantly releases her wrist, letting her thumb caress Emma's knuckles in apology. "Now, get to work Miss Swan."

Emma scurries past her, sending a pitifully thankful smile over her shoulder. Ms Mills returns the smile with a sad grimace of her own, watching as Ruby wraps a protective arm around the blonde, turning them both away from the rest of the class. "Right everyone," Regina turns to the class, clapping her hands sharply to break the suffocating silence that threatens to choke everyone in the room. She hadn't realised quite how much attention their little confrontation had earned, but it had certainly done the trick. Any suggestion of a student-teacher relationship prospering within the walls of TEP's Academy was now well and truly deceased. "Remain in your pairs and finish your warm-ups. You'll have half an hour to plan and the other half of the lesson will be devoted to performances. Keep each piece to a maximum of four minuets."

After a prolonged moment of silence, whereby the class remained mute and stared directly between Emma and Regina, Erin finally raised her hand. "Yes, Erin?" The name rolled of her tongue with a deliberate hint of exasperation.

"What style of dance are we meant to be choreographing?" Ms Mills frowned for a moment, not having had the time to plan that far ahead. Looking at the defiant diva in front of her, she knew that Emma still had a point to prove. A decidedly teasingly, yet forcibly controlled jive was sure to turn into a showdown, but it would also inject a much-needed boost of fun back into the lesson. It was dangerous game to play, especially with Emma wearing so little, but oh, it was so worth it. The pair of them seemed to thrive of conflict with each other, yet it wasn't as quite simple as that and Regina knew it. "You will be dancing the Jive," she declared, gesturing for Ruby and Emma to re-join the group before shooting an arched eyebrow in her direction. The 'do-your-worst' challenge that she perceived in the blonde's eyes only served to spur her on, sensing the need for a little bit of light-hearted fun and games. "The more energy you can inject, the better. Now, get going. I'll be reviewing your performances at the end of the lesson."

Emma slipped over to the empty space beside the mirror and tucked herself into the corner, smoothing out barely visible creases in her black leotard as she dropped her bag to the floor. She had always thought Ms Mills' insults were paramount to bullying, but she soon began to wonder if she should be appreciating the older woman's genius instead? She always managed to hit a nerve, even if her insults weren't remotely original. Did Ms Mills really think she was the first to comment on her looks? Or worse, to humiliate her in front of an entire class? If she thought she could break her - and Emma was really beginning to think she did - then Ms Mills would have to try a lot harder. The tears had been due to an intense hatred for confrontation - not for the selection of poorly thought out insults. Slightly intrigued by her teacher's routine wish to challenge her, Emma decided it was time to make her take notice. She took a spoonful of courage, channelling Ruby's poker-face expression and straightened her shoulders before confronting her teacher in the most understated but effective way possible.

When Ms Mills joined her during their warm-up session in the secluded section of the studio and leant forward, exposing her read-end in a suggestive manner, Emma instinctively stood behind her and placed her hands on her hips. Then, without a word, she slid her hands up the teacher's slender torso, towards the base of her neck. Regina gasped as the diva applied a gentle but deliberate force, wordlessly encouraging her to stretch downwards and touch her toes. Technically, she wasn't breaking any rules by helping Ms Mills with her stretches. Admiring the brunette in the mirror, Emma brushed her thumb over the sensitive spot on Regina's neck before gently pulling her upright again, never losing contact. Emma had every ounce of confidence in her voice, but not so much in her sex appeal, so when Ms Mills leant into her, struggling for breath, she decided to just bite the bullet and bring their lips closer together. Regina's lips were just inches from hers and her hand remained cupped on the brunette's neck, holding her still. In the mirror, she watched as Ms Mills chest heaved with nervous anticipation and her eyes flashed with sudden alarm. She had lost control. "Is this okay?" Emma purred, keeping her steady gaze fixated on the older woman's struggling chest as it heaved with a mixture of anger and arousal. "Or am I crossing the line?"

Regina's eyes were dangerously dark, like black liquid topaz, and her flushed cheeks were blushing pink, betraying a hint of embarrassment. For some unknown reason, neither Ms Mills or Emma could explain why the diva's finger's were still laced in Regina's hair, pinning her against her body with seductive possessiveness; nor could they explain why Regina hadn't pulled away from her student's less-than-subtle advances. She stared straight ahead, the mirror mockingly displaying her breathless pants and pathetic grasp on the diva's arm as it snaked around her torso, pulling her close. "Don't flatter yourself, Swan." She growled. It was pitiful, unbelievable and Emma wasn't done with her slow torture yet. She had caught Regina staring at her one to many times, heard the suggestive remarks sugar-coated in insults and she'd noted that even though her teacher's words hurt, she'd never touched the younger girl with anything but god-damn tenderness. The breathless teacher twisted in her arms, turning until their lips were mere inches away from each other. The temperature in the room was suddenly a few degrees hotter. Her last ditch attempt to regain some form of control not only over the suddenly far-to-brazen diva, but her own levels of completely inappropriate arousal, were thwarted by the diva's closeness.

Surprised to note the tremble of her hand as she grazed Emma's torso, she slowly encouraged the blonde to dip backwards, away from her feather light touch. Her arms encircled Emma's torso, keeping her steady, but the diva easily formed a beautiful shape as she reclined into Regina's strong arms, allowing the brunette to intimately support her weight. Realising the blonde was extremely light, Regina retracted one of her arms, supporting Emma with just one hand as she ran the other over her torso, upwards towards her ample breasts and then stopped short, suddenly pulling the diva upright again so that she was pressed flush against her. From the momentary flicker of doubt in Emma's eyes that betrayed her forged confidence and made way for doubt to course through her veins, Regina knew she wasn't alone in this sensory overload. She pulled the stubbornly defiant student into her, settling into the basic hold position. "You need to make me think," Ms Mills demanded, bringing her lips to the shell of Emma's ear. "But don't deceive me."

"Oh Ms Mills," Emma twirled away from their embrace, maintaining the soft link of their finger's as she settled back into a simple hold, ready to repeat the steps once again. "You have _no idea_ what I have planned for us."


	3. Chapter Three

**Rating will change to M after this chapter if I decide to continue.**

 **This story is also published on my Archive of Their Own account Jinxit13, and updates there are usually a little in advance.**

 **Ok, so this was a little rushed, but I really wanted to give you guys a huge thank you for your reviews before I head back to work. I promised three chapters and three chapters there are, but I'm so in love with their dynamic, I'm tempted to continue. What do you guys think?**

 **Sorry for any mistakes as I'm sure there are many. I haven't had a chance to proof read, so many apologies in advance. I hope you enjoy!**

 **~{*}~**

November extinguished itself in a rush of howling winds and driving rain as December arrived, cold as frozen iron, with hard frosts every morning and icy drafts that numbed exposed hands and faces. The eleventh month rolled seamlessly into the twelfth, complete with snow-topped canopies and Christmas lanterns. One particularly fog-laden evening, the campus surrounding the grand halls of TEP's Academy opened it's heavy oak doors to find itself covered in several feet of fresh snow, perfectly untouched. The city outside was shroud in a mixture of delighted chaos; the subway was heavily delayed, vendors were selling hot treats to willing punters with renewed festivity and yellow taxi's remained moored against the pavement, unwilling to venture away from the sidewalk as yet another snowstorm wrapped it's way around New York City. A squabble of excitable students poured through the entrance and into the grounds, ducking and diving with merry laughter as the inevitable promise of a snow fight sprung to life beneath their feet.

Three stories above the starlit campus, Regina Mills sat cross-legged behind her desk, angrily tossing one piece of paper after another into the trash can. Her pristine studio was cloaked in thick smog, heavy and suffocating; a generous Christmas tree sparkled in the corner of the room, casting a gentle glow about the studio. Her favourite candles flickered orange against the backdrop of a grey New York, casting long shadows across the vast expanse of the classroom floor. Regina pulled a fiercely sharp pencil out of her electric sharpener and tested the point, roughly inserting another pencil and allowing herself to be temporarily soothed by it's eclectic hum. She knew that she _should_ have been ecstatic when Emma Swan had called to cancel their final rehearsal; the holidays were just around the corner and despite her initial fit of defiance, her hopeless entry for the Winter Showcase had miraculously transformed into a budding star overnight, often leaving her breathless in more ways than one. TEP's newest star had nailed the routine in their one-to-one sessions and strictly speaking, the dance didn't require any further tweaking; she'd been drilled left, right and centre, and Ms Mills finally deemed it the number to be as close to perfection as she determined the blonde capable of achieving. The exasperated teacher was _finally_ free of the diva's gawking stares, intimate touches and rebellious smirks. Their tenuous game of give and take was in danger of becoming a popular sport, and Ms Mills was no longer confident that she had the upper hand. It was best to end their ambiguous flirtations whilst she could still see the line, but her heart had already fallen prey to the game. That's why she knew she should've have been stupidly ecstatic to be free of Emma and all the emotions she evoked, but she _wasn't_. She didn't know if the bad weather was to blame or if the early nights had squashed her creativity, but admitting that she was disappointed by the blonde's late-night call had dented her dwindling supply of pride beyond propriety.

Regardless of Emma's no-show performance, Regina had stayed behind after a fantastically short and albeit completely pointless faculty meeting, secretly hoping the blonde would suffer a change of heart at the last moment. The sheer hopelessness of waiting for someone she knew wouldn't appear rendered her mind useless when it came to mapping a mind-numbingly boring lesson plan for a bunch of spoilt Upper East Side seniors. As a result, she sat seething behind her desk and the longer she waited, the more her mood deteriorated. She'd allowed herself to believe, and not for the first time, that perhaps she and Little-Miss-Perfect were onto something great. Their Jive had elicited a fantastic array of whole-hearted cheers from the students in her Musical Performance, class and in turn, she'd been able to reclaim her title as TEP's Resident Bitch. The energy, the excitement and the sheer joy of dancing with someone who rose to a challenge so admirably had Ms Mills aching to dance again all over again and their rehearsals had really begun to produce fantastic results.

She sat massaging her aching temples for the fifth and final time that night before finally deciding it was time to call it quits. The vacant halls were hollow and empty, and once again, she was alone on campus. Kicking her chair away from the solid oak desk, Ms Mills gathered together her necessities, leaning across the desk to snap her laptop shut. The accompanying sound of a door swinging open in unison made her jump, and she swirled around to find Miss Swan standing just inside the door, her crestfallen face unblinking as the teacher stalled, scarf in hand, apparently surprised to find another body on campus after hours. "Miss Swan." Regina breathed, offering a tight-lipped smile to the flustered blonde. She yanked her phone free of the speakers it sat connected too, straightening her shoulders with a small grimace. "It's not like you to be roaming the halls after hours."

"I know-" Emma squirmed, an embarrassing tinge of disappointment colouring her words. "A-are you leaving?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so, Miss Swan." Her teachers voice was curt, though when her eyes honed in on the damp ends of Emma's hair and the adorable beanie scrunched into the palm of her hand, they inevitably softened. Snowflakes had settled on her coat, dusting the blonde with white specks and her glasses had steamed up, supposedly from racing through the ice-cold storm brewing outside. "Is there something I can help you with before I lock up?"

"Um yes..." Emma's shivering hands clasped harder around the sodden beanie in-between nervous fingers, her eyes darting to the floor self-consciously. "Well, it's just that-"

"It's just?" Regina prompted gently, sensing the trepidation in Emma's sullen eyes. The angry tension loitering between the tense blades of her shoulders suddenly dissolved into nothingness as she approached the girl cautiously, worried she'd misread their situation and landed just on the wrong-side of appropriate with a hand to her forearm. The blonde stared at her hand in awe, her eyes softening slightly at the tenderness of the teacher's gesture. "Emma, are you ok?"

In her typically dismissive fashion, Emma shrugged and side-stepped the question, sauntering her way over to the baby grand piano with an unreadable expression. The piano rested against one of three huge high-rise windows, it's black leather stool adjacent to the snow-draped fountain below. She turned and offered an uneasy smile, swiping the office key from Regina's clasped hand with a sinful smirk. Regina stood motionless, perplexed by the eerie silence that filled the studio. She watched as Emma carefully thumbed through a selection of musical symphonies balanced on top of the piano, wordlessly dropping Regina's sacred key into the pocket of her black overcoat. "Emma-"

"I'm fine." Emma bit back abruptly, holding up a dismissive hand. "I jus- I just needed to see you."

Regina took a tiny, hesitant step forward, frowning softly. The passive-aggressive glint smearing Emma's face with an unreadable tension was unnerving in a strangely delicious kind of way, but it still filled Ms Mills with an uneasy sense of dread, and she struggled to get a read on her students' intentions. "Tell me what's wrong, Emma-" she demanded once more, her tone harsher this time around.

"I said I'm fine." Emma repeated, and although her voice was forcibly cool, the scathing look in her eyes was not at all lost on the gawking brunette. She was _not_ fine. Not in the slightest. Ms Mills had ruined her; taken her self-control and exercised her restraint to the point of no return. Their one-to-one sessions had been paramount to torture, albeit an exquisitely addictive kind designed specifically to taunt her. Her achingly hot skin called to be touched, and she swallowed around the lump in her throat angrily. Ms Mills was not the sole cause of her anger, but the teacher's contribution had nagged at Emma all day long, effecting her ability to think straight.

At 9am that morning, Emma Swan had been called out of lessons prematurely by Marian Wells, TEP's respectfully poised headmistress. The grey-haired woman had marched her through the corridors of TEP's academy, her heels clicking along the hardwood floor with long, calculated strides. Emma scurried along behind the formidable figure, wondering if the headmistress had always had such an impressive gait or if she was simply in a hurry to get her talk with Miss Swan over and done with. They floated through the empty corridors, Mrs Wells leading Emma to her office just outside the staff quarters and politely gesturing for the blonde to take a seat. Emma did as she was told, nervously crossing and then uncrossing her legs.

"Miss Swan, as I understand, you have been participating in private rehearsals with Ms Mills, correct?"

"Correct." Emma nodded, levelling the headmistress with a shy smile. "That's true."

"And as I understand, Ms Mills has honoured my decision to have you represent her at the Winter Showcase?"

"Yes." Emma confirmed, her confidence growing in the face of Marian's kindly warmth. "We've been rehearsing hard, Mrs Wells. I really think I may have a chance."

"I quite agree." Mrs Wells nodded, peering down her nose at Emma through a stylish set of black half-glasses. "But as you may be aware, Ms Mills has requested that she no longer be in charge of Musical Performance next semester, effectively taking her off-rota for the foreseeable future..."

Emma baulked at that, unable to hide her surprise. "N-n-no, I wasn't aware-"

"It came as quite a surprise to me too, I must admit." The Headmistress shifted in her seat, crossing her long, elegant legs at the knee. She reclined backwards in her chair, levelling Emma with a kind, weathered smile. "Of course this means that you will no longer need to represent Ms Mills at the Winter Showcase if you do not wish-"

"But I _want_ too!" The blonde exclaimed, disappointment shamelessly evident her shaky voice. "I mean, we've worked so hard..."

"I can quite understand that Miss Swan." The headmistress smiled, adjusting her glasses with a stern look at the blonde's shaking hands. Her knuckles were white; she gripped the edge of her chair angrily, trying her best to look dejected, but not outright upset by Ms Mills' decision to leave her high and dry. Again.

"You have a choice. You can pull out of the Winter Showcase, or you could do us both a favour, and try your hand at convincing Ms Mills to stay."

Emma sniffed, bowing her head as she played with her hands. "And how would I do that?" she asked, her voice already defeated. She didn't believe Ms Mills would listen to her, not unless she could find a way to finally silence the brunette and lay down the law - her law - in a way that would be respected. She could try appealing to her teacher's better side, but she wasn't entirely sure she had one. Every time she saw a fleeting look of vulnerability, a tiny reminder that she was in fact duelling in an intense power struggle with a decent and kind human being, it was wiped away with some cleverly biting remark, designed specifically to send Emma reeling.

"Listen, Miss Swan. I do not believe for a second that Ms Mills is an easy woman to bargain with, but I also do not believe that she would walk away from this school without good reason. Perhaps your insistence would remind her that she is in fact a valuable asset to our faculty, but also to your personal experience here."

Emma bit down on her bottom lip, hard, wondering what had inspired this U-turn of Ms Mills'. Mrs Wells accepted her unspoken agreement with a warm smile, standing to dismiss the blonde with a kind squeeze to her shoulder. "Good luck Miss Swan." The headmistress said with a hopeful amount of sincerity as Emma hurriedly scraped her belongings off the floor and prepared for battle of wills with TEP's very own Queen B. _Good luck indeed._

Now, silhouetted in the golden-white ore of the moon, Emma Swan found herself toying with the hem of her shirt, slowly lifting to reveal a little more of her lacy, black leotard with a ravenous look in her eye. Her molten eyes were harsh and unforgiving in half-light, boring into Regina's disbelieving eyes with unaltered lust. Her cheeks were still flushed from the snow; her eyes bright and dangerous. Her wavy, blonde hair fell over both shoulders, tumbling towards her waist in tousled tendrils. The fitted bodice of her leotard left little to the imagination, and Ms Mills' mouth fell open as Emma exposed her toned thighs, bending over to remove the sheer shirt that had previously protected her modesty. She held out her hand expectantly, the corners of her mouth pulling upwards as Ms Mills stared at her impossibly long legs, dumbfounded. The teacher was stood with her arms folded across her chest, her cashmere coat draped delicately across her shoulders. She baulked away from Emma's advances, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. The blonde's face was uncharacteristically still on the surface, dangerous and unmoving and Regina wondered why Emma had never brought that steely exterior to their lessons. She released a breath she didn't realise she was holding when Emma's outstretched hand found purchase on the soft fabric of her coat, forcibly closing the gap between them. Barely concealed cleavage pressed against Ms Mill's silk shirt, begging to be kneaded with talented hands as the velvet voice hissed it's request with a roll of her tongue, painfully close to Ms Mill's ear. "Come." Emma demanded, testing the boundaries of student conduct with a lick of her sinful lips. "Dance with me?"

"Need I remind you that you are _dangerously_ close to crossing yet _another_ line here, Miss Swan." The teacher chastised, her confident façade dissipating with each new roll of Emma's insatiable eyes. Regina sneered at the blonde through dark lashes, but another insistent rake of Emma's nails over her torso sent her sliding in compliance, her fingers ghosting over Emma's wrist and into her outstretched hand.

The blonde let out a cool, detached laugh that didn't sound as if it belonged to her, walking Regina backwards towards the docking station. "Phone." she commanded, smirking as the teacher lazily searched her pockets, pretending to be completely unaffected by the intensity of Emma's touch; the way her finger's lingered over her hips possessively and scraped at the warm flesh, marring her delicate skin with heavy red scratches. Regina wrestled to control the way her body reacted, reminding herself that the student was nothing more than a girl, and whilst she had no desire to be Emma's first, the mere thought turned her body limp. Her breathing was heavy as she fumbled through the available playlists, hitting play when Emma grunted her approval. The Weeknd's hit ' _Earned It'_ immediately spilled from the speakers, and Emma spun them both around without warning, slamming their overheated bodies together, and fixing her flabbergasted teacher with a glare that said _"Well this is what you want, isn't it?"_

Regina's head was spinning so hard it hurt, but before she could assert the fractured remains of _her_ dominance over the blonde, Emma had both of her hands in a vicelike grip, forcing them high above her head. She slammed the brunette against the steam-ridden window, using her lips to hold her in place as Ms Mills' overcoat fell to a pool at her feet. Her free hand grabbed at Regina's sleek hair and yanked downwards, bringing her rouged lips upwards until their lips were pressed firmly together, their tongues joining together in a recklessly erotic duel for dominance. Regina moaned unrepentantly against Emma's open mouth, allowing her bruising tongue access. Without any hint of regret or pre-emption, Emma took full advantage, her tongue expertly exploring her teacher's mouth with her own.

All Regina had ever intended to do was facilitate in the blonde's transition from a sheltered schoolgirl to a self-assured woman; she'd wanted to dirty her up a bit so that she could fulfil her potential and tap into the parts of herself that she was too inhibited to share. A couple of weeks ago, she thought it would be easy to walk away when her work was done, but now that it was apparent the blonde screws like she sings – she puts her heart and soul into it and holds nothing back - and now it was even harder not to get caught up in the heat of the moment. Ms Mills' was desperately trying to keep a safe distance and stay detached (she knew how much goodbyes hurt and she didn't intend on ever getting that close to someone again, even if it meant all she ever offered the blonde was an insight into life beyond the missionary position), but the diva still seemed intent on bridging the gap between them, both physically and mentally. It made Regina want to push her to breaking point; to say whatever it took to drive Emma away, because she knew it was only a matter of time before the blonde would arrive at the inevitable conclusion that they were never going to work out; that they were about as compatible as Liza Minnelli and David Gest. Regina could've coped with the back-and-forth banter, the countless confrontations, and the perverse pleasure she derived from getting Emma all riled up in rehearsals without strictly breaching any rules, but this was a whole new ball game. One she wasn't willing to play. Instead of hating Emma's guts, she was actually starting to care about the blonde; her past and present self included. The thought that Emma's feelings had reached a point where they took precedence over her own startled her, and she arched away from Emma's bruising kiss, bracing her hands against the blonde's tense shoulders. "E-Emma, stop." She moaned, relishing the taste of a stranger on her tongue as the blonde pulled backwards, growling inwardly. "Emma, we _have_ to stop."

"Why?" Emma bit back, her tone so uncharacteristically heated and unchecked, it actually took Ms Mills by surprise. There was no trace of tears in her voice, nor in the aggressive way she remained pressed against Regina, her arms once again bridged against the window above their heads. Her eyes were narrowed, rigid, hot and hard. In that moment, Regina knew she was already far away and once more, she had become the enemy. _These turbulent swings from most loved to the most hated teacher will be the death of me_ , she thought to herself, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind Emma's ear. She drew in a deep breath, telling herself that Emma's burning hard stare would only last as long as it took her to think of the most brutally cutting thing she could tear her down with. That was their game after all; or at least it had been. But this was different, and Regina was truly regretting ever playing with fire in the first place. She waited for one insult after another to blister her carefully crafted exterior, but they never came. Emma was staring at her with soft, inquisitive eyes, seemingly perplexed by the teacher's unlikely show of affection. "But it's not like you're actually my teacher anymore. Right?"

 _Oh._ "You know about that?"

"Yes," Emma admitted, her voice finally crumbling. "I do. But that's what I can't understand. Why wouldn't you tell me that you _hated_ teaching me so much you'd rather quit than be near me?"

"We're no good for each other, Emma." Regina breathed, her back still arched against the snow-flecked window, relishing the defusing effect it's cool surface had against her overheated skin. " _I'm_ no good for you."

Emma stayed rooted to the spot, a welcome breeze moving her hair softly away from the cheekbones that had become so much more prominent over the previous weeks. Her features buckled just slightly before she spoke, the only betrayal of her grief. "Ms Mills look at me. Please." The brunette hesitantly complied, peering at the blonde beneath lidded eyelashes, her eyes unconsciously brushing back to the floor. Unexpectedly, Emma's hand drifted to her hip. It settled there and pulled her closer. She inhaled sharply. She was against the blonde's warm chest, chiselled to perfection. Regina splayed her hand against it, intending to push the younger girl away, but instead she left it there. Emma's breathing quickened, wordlessly waiting to see if Regina would wrestle with her emotions now, or lend herself over to Emma's touch without argument. She began nuzzling the brunette's long neck with delicate kisses. So faint, they were whispers. Regina urged herself to push away, but couldn't. Her limp body began to tremble uncontrollably. Her head was angled slightly to the side as the blonde's searching lips came closer and closer to hers. She was surprised to find her own lips parted, ready for the softness of Emma's bruised lips. Their breaths mingled. Her heart fluttered inside her chest. At first, it was a delicate butterfly of a kiss. Then Emma's arms encircled her, the tenderness of her kiss taking them both by surprise. It was slow and soft, comforting in ways that words would never be. Regina's hand rested below Emma's ear, her thumb caressing her cheek as their lips grazed tentatively against each other, slowly exploring their new dynamic with aching precision. The student ran her fingers down Regina's spine, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them and she could feel the beating of Ms Mill's melting heart against her chest.

"Could you..." Emma trailed off, gesturing to the floor, and Regina cocked her brow questioningly.

"I think you're forgetting that I'm there one who calls the shot here, Miss Swan."

"But I'm the one who has the key." Emma reminded her with a smug smile, and Regina gritted her teeth.

"Fine, where do you want me?" Regina drawled, and when Emma dropped to her knees, the teacher slowly followed suit.

"All those times I helped you cool down, do you have any idea how much I wanted too..." Emma's voice trailed off, dipping dangerously low as she reached for Regina's leg, anchoring it against her shoulder, and gently stretching it out. The blonde traced the light outline of Regina's calf, and then her shin, dragging out the delicious torture for as long as possible. Then, she dropped an open kiss against the tender spot behind Regina's knee - which the brunette had no idea was so sensitive - and smiled when Regina let out a strangled gasp, squirming as the blonde inched higher and higher.

"Jesus _fucking_ Christ." Regina cursed, turning her attention to the full-length mirrors behind the barre. In a room full of snow and twilight, with Ty Dolla $ign's _Or Nah_ humming through the speakers, the spark in her eyes was electrified as she locked sight of the blonde lying between her legs, enthusiastically preparing to eat her out, smothering her quaking thighs in open-mouthed kisses. It was the single most erotic experience of her life and she arched against the floor, gasping for breath. "Fuck." She moaned, fisting her hair with a guttural sigh. _Shit_ , she panicked, watching Emma with lust-filled eyes. _I'm screwed_.


	4. Chapter Four

**Here you go: Chapter Four!**

 **I did intend for this consist of three instalments only, but as it turns out, I am totally in love with these characters and can't wait to publish the next chapter. My apologies in advance as this chapter is a little shorter than the other three and hasn't been proof read, but hopefully the material inside will make up for it!**

 **Please let me know your thoughts. I love to read your reactions!**

 **Thanks for reading.**

 **~{*}~{*}~{*}~**

Ms Mills' tasted like November, like hot chocolate on stormy evenings and crisp autumn air. Her flustered skin was almost amber in the streetlight, her sprawled body casting sensually explicit shadows upon the studio walls like a montage. An orange glow flooded in through the unguarded window, yet without a light on they were quite safe from prying eyes. As always, the teacher wore black lace beneath her leotard, so soft over her olive skin, mahogany hair tumbling to the small of her back when she arched in wanton desire. Her hand reached for Emma's face, hesitantly moving down past her exposed collar bone, easing her body beneath the blonde's effortlessly. Emma had every intention of punishing Ms Mills, that was until her wandering hand touched her face, pulling Emma to attention. The acceleration of her heart-rate had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with what her body really wanted; the look of desperate arousal in her teacher's eyes playing havoc with her morals. She looked away; pretending as if the wintry wonderland glistening stories below held her attention, but Ms Mills read the blonde like a book, eyes on her chest, the rapt breathing duly noted. With a gentle finger, Regina reoriented the blonde's face so that she could capture the gaze Emma didn't want to give her, stealing the passion from her eyes in a way that only magnified the spark. There was no smile on her lips, only the hot intensity of her gaze as she stilled her movements.

"Emma, we _can_ stop? You don't have to do this."

Determined to quiet any fears Regina harboured deep inside her blackened heart, Emma opened her eyes and looked down, her lips swollen and wet. Ms Mills was nothing short of spectacular; she way she lay writhing beneath Emma's twitching biceps, chewing her bottom lip to keep from moaning had the blonde bewitched. Her molten eyes shone, daring Emma not to back away, but her beautiful lashes swept across her cheeks in a private moment of vulnerability as she exhaled with a heavy, emotional sigh, battling needlessly with her inner most desires.

Regina's teeth left tiny, blood-stained indentations in her bottom lip, and Emma lent forward slowly, tenderly capturing her bruised lips in a searing kiss. "I'm right here." She promised, cupping the teacher's chin as she dipped her head, swiping away the tiny red beads with a sensual flick of her tongue. "and I _want_ you-" she purred, tracing a poker-straight line down the length of her trembling thigh, locking eyes with her teacher's shining orbs—waiting for her to refuse. She smiled warmly when the brunette flexed her hips possessively against hers instead and Regina watched, rapt, as Emma slowly pulled the damp leotard aside, using her knowledge of the brunettes' body to devastating effect.

With a touch designed to bend even the toughest of wills, Emma swept Regina's glossy hair aside and pressed a wet kiss to her jagged collarbone. Then, she nibbled at the teacher's ear, and sank her body downwards into clutching arms, allowing her weight to pin Regina's thighs aside, into position. Her breath hitched as the teacher hung her trembling fingers against the waistband of her sheer skirt, dragging the blonde impossibly closer. She buried her face in the curve of Regina's shoulder, her hands flexing around the brunettes back. With fingers far too proficient for Ms Mill's own good, she then eased two stern fingers inside of her; with her teacher's legs spread so wide beneath her, the long, teasing strokes hit far deeper than expected.

"Fucking hell-" Regina rasped, digging her mauve nails into the strained biceps above her, contracting and deconstructing with each new thrust. Her body jerked along with the swift movements, gasping when Emma's fingers made contact with her soaked, swollen folds. For a moment, Emma worried that she'd done something wrong, but then her teacher let out a painfully, dry whimper, chasing her retreating hand with her hips, and she realized that her actions had done quite the opposite. Her earlier teasing had made Regina exquisitely sensitive, so much so that even the lightest touch is enough to make her shiver.

The same hard, wanton feeling that had been driving her since this began was still roaring deep within her, demanding that she prove herself and claim Regina for her own. And so she did, taking a few minutes to explore her panting teacher, tending to all the precious places that made her hiss and writhe and curse. She dragged her slender fingers down the length of Regina's slit, gathering the copious wetness there. She'd never toyed with anyone the way she toyed with Regina, coaxing the teacher's opening, circling it with two fingers; she felt the dancer's hips jerk, as though she was barely able to prevent herself from arching forward to take them inside. But she held her gaze with a burning one of her own, letting the teacher know that such behaviour wouldn't be tolerated, and Regina had to bite her lip, reining in a typically smart response.

"Emma, please..." Whilst Regina's husky voice and molten eyes were pleading, the wetness that rushed out to coat Emma's hand when she shook her head no told her that some dark, dangerous part of Ms Mills actually appreciated the denial. Emma slid her hand back up to her teacher's clit and circled it, running her finger along its base and pushing back its hood, but she was careful not to touch the head. She could feel it throbbing for want of attention, and Regina's was forced to stifle a whine every time she skated past it, feeding hungrily on the fire burning inside her chest. Soon, she'd be able to see The Great Regina Mills coming apart beneath her, in her hands, _for her_ ...and she couldn't think of anything she needed more.

When Regina's thighs contracted around her, possessively directing her fingers back down to her quivering entrance, Emma relented and once again pushed inside, finding nothing but smooth, welcoming heat. Ms Mills was already so wet, so open. She was overwhelmed, thrashing against Emma with animalistic desire, fighting every instinct she had to reclaim control. Any power from her was merely borrowed, and Emma was treading on thin ice if she thought her teacher was going to forget that any time soon. There was no resistance as Emma thrust forward, her forehead sweeping low, brushing against Regina's. The brunette's muscles clutched around her desperately, rippling and pulsing, and Emma could no longer hold back a groan of appreciation for the sight beneath her. It was a privilege to know Regina this way—and was is beautiful. Emma knew Regina did not trust easily, but she trusted _her_. She didn't submit easily either, but she submitted to Emma, wearing a hauntingly vulnerable expression, which clued Emma into the fact that their dynamic - the power struggle they indulged in - was frighteningly overwhelming, especially when Regina had only ever been used to getting her own way.

Emma was equal parts terrified and turned on and she showed it with the swift pump of her hand as she settled into a rhythm, soft and encouraging. It was a rhythm that Regina clearly approved off, cursing beneath her breath. Her hips rock along with it, urging the blonde to try for a faster rhythm—which she does, encouraged by the brunettes roofless cries. Her teacher was suddenly exquisitely vocal, too close to the edge to hold back any longer. She didn't try to hide her pleasure, instead embracing it with a wildness that Emma could not help but be totally and completely mesmerized by. Regina's messy shock of dark hair flew in every direction against the hardwood floor, her black eyes blazing stars, like the teardrop in the middle of a candle.

Emma fucked her harder, then, encouraged by the want in Regina's touch. But it wasn't fucking—not really. It turned into something rough and raw and a little savage, but there was more then just an animalistic desire to claim behind it as well. There was more in the way she sought out the perfect spot against Ms Mills' front wall and hooked against it, more in the way that Regina moaned for her, more in the way their eyes met as they looked at each other. The other side of savagery was protectiveness, and Emma knew that together or not, she would keep her vow and protect Regina's fragile body with her life—the life she'd almost lost once already, running away from her demons.

The teacher was practically falling into her hands, spilling hot little slips of clear fluid, and each time Emma drove into her, more of her hot arousal seeped out to coat curled fingers. She'd never seen anybody so slick before, so eager and so ready to receive her. With the extra lubrication, she was quickly able to pick up a brutal pace, a pace Regina was clearly more comfortable with, as she handled it expertly. No one had ever fucked her gently, with the sort of tender respect that threatened to entangle her emotionally as well as physically. But she would have allowed Emma; even if it was only one brick at a time, she would have dismantled the wall inside her for the blonde, albeit, messily. Instead, she focused on taking everything Emma had to give, all the hurt and frustration at her betrayal, and all the respect as well that fell hand in hand with their private rehearsals. And, at last, Emma's efforts are rewarded plentifully.

Her teacher unravelled between her legs so hard, it felt as though she had been steamrollered into submission. Biting her lip, hard, Regina slumped gracefully against the floor, her throat rasping out unintelligible curses in-between involuntarily twitches. " _God_ , Emma..." she murmured, fisting the blonde's hair as the younger woman climbed up her body, pressing swollen lips to her naval, her breasts, her neck and then finally, her lips with a force that was both gentle and deliberate, cradling Regina safely in her arms.

"Stay with me?" Emma whispered, ghosting her lips over the shell of Regina's ear, hiding her eyes from Regina's view. They were shining with tears, overwhelmed by the sheerness of Regina's perfection, the way she was both liquid and fire, melting into her touch. "Please..."

Regina heaved a hard, shaking breath, reaching up to tangle her hands in a mess of blonde hair. She couldn't stay now. Things had gone _way_ too far, reaching miles beyond repair. It took a moment for her mind to recuperate, to push away the feelings of ineptness that always cast a shadow over any flickering promises of happiness; her mind casting over the many faces of her student's, and the way she had just neglected all notions of being completely and totally in control of the train wreck she recognised as life. She wanted to lay in Emma's arms for as long as time would allow her, unmoving as the blonde traced shapes across her chest with the tickling of her breath, but then she hauled the student to her feet, turning her to face the full-length mirrors glaring over at their bare bodies.

She embraced the diva from behind, smiling warmly; they looked so _good_ together, dishevelled and panting with unsuppressed desire. The only thing that ruined the tableau somewhat was the fact that Emma was still partially dressed. Regina reached forward to hitch the sheer material up, raking pedicured nails over her thigh, deliberately marring her wonderfully translucent skin with deep, possessive marks. The grey material fell away easily, and Ms Mills kicked the material aside, focusing her renewed attention of the lace bralet cupping Emma's breasts. "Tell me, Miss Swan..." The brunette murmured, pressing her tongue to Emma's ear as she unfastened the bra's clasps, smiling as the lacy material fell unceremonisly to the floor. She sucked on the hot, strained pulse point just beneath the blonde's ear, earning an explicit moan in response. "What do you think about when you touch yourself at night?"

Despite the fact that her face had only just been pressed against Regina's thighs, enthusiastically licking and nipping her way to the teacher's core, Emma still had the sense to blush when Regina pressed against her, whispering into her ear. "You," she breathed, ducking her head. "I-I think about you..."

"Then watch me touch you, Miss Swan." Ms Mills' encouraged, using her free hand to push Emma's chin back to the front of the class, angling her face back towards the mirrors. Her breath hitched knowing Emma had thought about this, about them together, in such intimate ways. It set her heart aflutter, a deep sadness settling deep in abdomen. Her dark heart didn't belong in the light; even if I did mean that her truest love was both equal parts lightness and hope, she still didn't belong. "I want you to see how beautiful you are, Emma. Look..."

The teacher pressed a warm, reassuring kiss to each shoulder blade, locking eyes with Emma through the mirror. She smiled against the hot flesh as her diva's jaw dropped open, perplexed by the sheer perfection awaiting her inside the glass. Regina kissed a precious path downwards, along her spine, before dropping to her knees and slowly peeling the blonde's black thong away.

"You know, I've seen a lot of legs in my time, Miss Swan..." she trailed off, her fingers gliding up the smooth inner of Emma's shaking thigh, coming to rest just shy of her toned buttocks. "But _yours_ , they are something else entirely."

Emma blushed once again, smiling appreciably when Ms Mills ventured a little higher, their open mouths still side by side, appreciating the view. The teacher's well-practiced hands found purchase on the blonde's ridiculously pert ass, kneading softly as she kicked Emma's heals apart. There, she paused, staring at their sweaty, quivering bodies silhouetted in the candle-lit room. Emma was taller than she was, but as the blonde refused to wear heels in class (much to her teacher's chagrin) she'd always come across as being shorter than Regina, possessing a subtle leanness that had never quite graced her teacher in the same way. The teacher was instead much more petite, with curves rather than slenderness, but the effect her body had as it moved across the dancefloor was nothing short of miraculous. Emma's abs were more harshly defined, but Regina's were soft and twitched with the excitement of touching Emma's hips, faintly squeezing the flustered skin.

Emma's head bowed forward, the long blonde tresses ghosting over taunt muscles. "Please, Regina..." she begged, widening her stance a little further, as if in silent invitation for the teacher to touch her. Ms Mills didn't require any further encouragement; her thighs clenched involuntarily, her fingers swiftly finding purchase on the blonde's swollen clit. The teacher groaned, amazed by just how wet Emma had really become, and she dropped a kiss to the blonde's spine, titling her head backwards momentarily.

"Emma darling, open your eyes." The blonde finally complied, smiling at the tenderness of Ms Mills' instruction. _Darling_ , she could definitely get used to that, she thought. Her lidded eyes reopened; urgent, unchecked desire bore straight back at her, raw desperation thriving beneath the drop of her breathless moans and deliberate chants. Ms Mill's hand slipped down her torso, tantalisingly close to it's final target, before spreading Emma's thigh's a little further. Then, two deft finger's swept inside the delicious heat, curling instantaneously once buried deep inside. "Oh fuck, Regina-" The blonde's head fell backwards, coming to slump heavily against the teacher's shoulder as she pumped inside, easily building Emma up towards her climax. Regina slipped her thigh between Emma's leg, wondering if the mechanics of what she was about to do would work. She brought her thigh to Emma's core, replacing her fingers, and then set about ravishing her clit with attention, gently mounting the pressure with each delicate swipe across her core. The surprised look of pure hedonistic wonderment coloured the blonde's face as she watched Regina work her body to brilliant effect, one hand coming to find a sharp purchase on the olive arm wrapped around her torso There, she dug her nails into the softly freckled skin, holding Regina in place against her. The teacher smiled when the blonde's legs buckled lightly, and then she fucked her with a single-minded, all-consuming type of passion that she'd never directed towards anyone else.

"Come for me, Emma." She whispered, focusing hard on the sharp contrast of their bodies as Emma arched into her, panting heavily. The blonde clutched at her arm, pulling the teacher impossibly closer as Regina assaulted her neck with open-mouthed kisses, refusing to slow her harsh, jagged movements until Emma was chanting - and then cursing - her name. Emma slammed her eyes shut, a single, watery tear rolling down her cheek as she came, collapsing into Regina's readied arms like a ragdoll.

"Fuck, Regina!" She exclaimed, running her hands over her face with a heavy, satisfied smile. She didn't hesitate when Regina gently encouraged her to turn around, soft lips grazing against her forehead as the teacher kissed her hesitantly, tenderly. She could still feel her moist lips on her sweaty forehead when the teacher turned away, leaving Emma standing mere inches away, staring at the hollow back turned towards her. Regina's smooth, soft cheeks were inexplicably wet with silent tears. Her eyes, which were always dark and sparkling were suddenly soaked in pain, her arms wrapping around her own torso protectively. Never had Emma seen her so sad and so pained. Her forehead was soaked in perspiration from the heat of the studio, and even the fresh snow falling outside couldn't quite chill her tempered skin. Regina wiped her face gently and turned into Emma, drawing the blonde into a gingerly hesitant kiss, her tongue wetting Emma's dehydrated mouth.

"Just give me five minuets to finish up here, and then I'll walk you home." She promised, her voice sounding hoarse even to her own ears. Emma nodded slowly, glancing around the expanse of the studio. Her leotard had been strewn across the piano, the sheer fabric hanging to the floor. She nodded in silent understanding when Regina tossed it over to her, then retrieved her teacher's soaked garments from the floor, handing them back with an impish grin. Regina took the ruined underwear with a blush, and then began her own scavenger hunt, looking for everything from her favourite silk shirt to her cashmere scarf.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five!**

 **Thank you so much for all of your comments and reviews on the previous chapters! I'll admit that this chapter is my least favourite and has therefore been far more taxing to write, but your comments have inspired me to continue.**

 **This is a small filler chapter with no M rated material unfortunately. It is however, necessary. I argued with myself over and over again as to whether or not this chapter was worth posting, but I'm hoping you will enjoy this little bit of fluffiness regardless.**

 **Once again thank you for reading please let me know what you think! Thanks :)**

 **~{*}~{*}~{*}~**

They entered the park in silence, Emma's hands clasped tightly around a foaming hot chocolate with all the extras. Frosted air forced it's way into her lungs and stung at her eyes, clinging to long, blonde lashes. She wrapped her scarf twice around her neck so that it overlapped her bluing lips, hoping that her own exhaled air would be trapped around them in a microcosm of warmth. Yet even then, the chill seeped in and her teeth began to chatter. She tensed her muscles, bringing her limbs in closer, and bent her head to the oncoming wind. The loose snow from the ground became tiny missiles in the gust and she began to squint to retain any vision at all. She watched each footfall sink into the crystalline snow as Regina crossed over the labyrinths of paths and then, like she was still five, Emma turned around to see their path laid out behind them in the otherwise pristine white. Just before her head flicked back around, she spied the icicles hanging from the stair rail and instantly regretted not snapping one off.

Where the crowds thickened, Regina's walls dropped, and Emma found herself no longer walking through a snow-dredged city alone. Homeless men, deprived of all decent humanity, squatted inches away from the falling sleet with nothing but torn parkers to keep them warm. They peered, rather hopelessly, from the dark crevices of their secluded bridge to enjoy the only pleasure they were certain of in life. Fumes of pink and orange dissolved into the city's dome of existence, eventually parting to reveal New York's white skyline glinting back down at them, the stars a billion years older than the universe itself. Every now and again, a fragile man with greying hair and a suspicious limp who never missed the blessed event would awaken from his restless slumber and set fire to yesterday's newspaper until all the trees in Central Park were smouldering with red, orange and yellow. The fragrant breath of pine and fir and cedar and poplar trees had only intensified with the arrival of December's snowfall, yet the robins still thrilled with their evening song high in the treetops. The festive smell of roasted nuts and cinnamon sticks evoked many memories of a season that Regina Mills had always considered to be unmatchable in sensory deliciousness. Christmas was only a matter of weeks away - another reason to at least try and keep her job - but she stopped momentarily to cast a curious eye over the magical red and white stalls scattered randomly throughout the park anyway, thinking of her nephew. Handmade Christmas decorations and toffee apples twinkled up at her in the faded light. She felt a flush of warmth consume her; Emma's shoulder brushed against her forearm, leaving behind a trail of goose bumps. With a tenderness designed to set hearts racing, Regina folded the diva's glove-clad fingers into the warmth of her fur-lined pocket, squeezing apologetically. Emma could feel the alarming thud of Regina's heart through this single touch and smiled inwardly, blushing up at the stars.

The snowstorm slowly ebbed away into nothingness, Regina's unseeing eyes fixed steady against the grey horizon. She was _in_ there, Emma knew that much, but it was almost as if she'd taken a huge step back from life - from Emma. The blonde wanted to reach in and tell her that it wasn't _hopeless_ , but she knew that Regina wouldn't believe her. She wanted to rekindle the teacher's heat but her insides were too damp with unshed pain, and she'd already pulled too far away, the fractured walls surrounding her hollow heart rapidly interconnecting, working overtime to shut the student out. Emma wasn't naïve; she'd always known that Regina had a deep, searing realm of pain inside of her, but now it was visible on her face and no amount of wishing it away could change the course of their inevitable fate. Emma understood that it was a selfish want; her teacher had a right to her pain, but she hadn't asked for it - it'd just arrived like a gift they'd never wanted, and now she couldn't help but feel responsible for their predicament. Emma's fool-proof plan had backfired ironically, by succeeding beyond her expectations. She'd never intended to push Regina this far; but she'd also never intended on letting her go, either.

She skipped along beside Regina with a heavy sense of trepidation, pressing a light kiss to the teacher's temple. As they wound their way through the park, Emma asked about everything from the varsity of Regina's music collection to her newly abandoned plans for the Winter Showcase. She asked about her favourite Broadway show, her favourite restaurant and her favourite season. Ms Mills wistfully revealed a deep love for Winter. It was a time where she could find comfort in the simplest of things, such as the warm tones of auburn or the tartan blankets draped over her bed, freshly washed and ironed. She even revealed that it was also the only time she got her nephew all to herself, just before Christmas. Reluctantly, Regina eventually revealed a deep desire to adopt for herself, but then explained that she'd never had to think for anyone else besides herself. Emma let that one sit for a while, forcing herself not to dwell on her own childhood; all the Christmases she spent all alone, only praying that someone as wonderful as Regina would provide her with a family, a place to call home. Instead, she asked about her literary heroes, and they spoke at length about great playwrights such as Neil Simon and Oscar Wilde, as well as their love of comedy. She asked about the teacher's favourite TV shows, and they both revealed a deep and somewhat disturbing obsession with The Game of Thrones. She asked about spirituality, about how all their lives connected, and she asked a great deal about the former Broadway star's family - both the old and the new. She wanted to know more about the woman who had survived New York alone, and she wondered again if being self-dependant for so long had played an important role in fuelling her incessant desire to protect her heart so diligently. Even though they'd found one another in the space between right and wrong, it seemed as though they had fallen together almost unavoidably; like two passing ships in the night.

In return, Regina wanted to know about the experiences that had formed and informed Emma, so she asked about the diva's childhood, her parents and even her preference for burgers over what she considered to be _real_ food. Some topics were skirted around and saved for a more intimate moment, but for the majority of their walk they shared the details of their lives with earnest enthusiasm, ignoring the heavy weight on their shoulders. Emma allowed the brunette to explore their new dynamic without pressure or expectation, answering her questions honestly and happily. They talked about schooldays, laughed about their mutual hatred of awful TEP teachers and Emma even shared some of her more certain hopes and dreams for the future. Emma didn't shy away with Regina asked about her previous relationships, and the messy way her courtship with Neal Cassidy had collided into every rat-trap and bombshell they could find along the way. Instead, she learnt how one person's absence could strengthen your memories of them. Ms Mills spoke with a gentle lint to her voice; her questions born out of curiosity. Emma sensed that she cared and so she listened intensely; gradually learning to trust that the former Broadway sensation was not there to ridicule or humiliate her. Eventually, she even allowed herself the simple pleasure of curling into the older woman's open arms as they kicked away the fallen leaves, heading back into the city's snow-leaden streets. When Regina successfully managed to recount Emma's entire 'You're only going to chuck me out anyway, right?' speech from the start of term (with all her dramatic actions thrown in for good measure), the diva finally relented with a dramatic sigh and forcibly admitted that her teacher did in fact have a rather remarkable memory.

"I told you..." Regina laughed, nudging the blonde playfully. "I remember everything about my students. You're the one who wasn't paying attention."

"Well if I'd have known you were paying such close attention, I would have made more of an effort to look nice for you."

"You always looked beautiful, Emma." Regina assured her, running a soft thumb across the smooth valley between the diva's knuckles. "You made quite the impact, clearly..."

"Are you admitting to liking my argyle sweaters?" Emma teased, pursing her lips. "Because I always thought that they were the stuff of nightmares for you."

"Oh they were." The teacher nodded hastily, her eyes comically wide. "They were positively _terrifying_ actually, but still, there is something rather sexy about a 5'6ft blonde with legs up to my shoulders."

"I have a small body." Emma said casually, as if by way of explanation. "But my legs belong to that of a normal sized person."

"I happen to think that you are perfectly put together." Regina grinned, pausing momentarily to drink in the perfection awaiting her next admission. "You even made argyle sexy-"

"Sexy? That's not a word generally used to describe me." Emma blushed with a shy smile, pulling the collar of her jacket upwards to hide her colouring cheeks. "Maybe I'll have to dig up one of my old sweaters again..."

"Um-" Regina's suddenly horrified expression was hysterical, and Emma found herself smiling blissfully into the snow, giggling softly. "If you do that I'm just gonna rip it straight of you."

"Oh no you won't!" The blonde retorted, wrapping her arms protectively around her favourite leotard. "My sweaters are here to stay."

"You know, now that I think about it, I think argyle burns pretty well..."

"Ms Mills! Don't you _dare_ threaten my sweaters which such things!"

"Fine." Regina relented, rolling her eyes ironically at the huge, triumphant grin on Emma's bright face. "Just keep them under lock and key from now on. I can't promise they won't find their way towards a trash can somewhere."

"Well after Ruby chopped up all my pleather, I decided to ship anything important back to my parents for safekeeping." Emma said, shoving her free hand back into her pocket. "I thought it was better to be safe than sorry."

"Clearly someone hasn't moved on from high-school." Regina commented; creasing her nose.

"No. She certainly hasn't." Emma agreed, shaking the stray locks of hair away from her smiling face. "But it's nice to have her here with me. In New York, I mean...it can get a little overwhelming sometimes."

Suddenly, another searing snowstorm swept into the city and they both ducked for cover under a century-old willow. There wasn't enough room for the pair of them to take shelter beneath it's weeping branches so Emma pressed herself right up against it's impressive trunk, a yellow taxi parked up against the sidewalk. Her finger's became laced in the fabric of Regina's jacket as she tugged her closer, never quite releasing her grip until the teacher was pressed flush against her heaving chest. It was only then that her rigid fingers began to relax and her smile faltered. Regina was breathless, but thankfully still smiling. Her eyes were cold, dark and beautiful, flashing down at her like liquid topaz. And then she released the breath that she didn't even realise she was holding and diverted her gaze to the floor, suddenly embarrassed. Without a single spoken word being exchanged between them, Regina silently pressed herself against the diva until their foreheads brushed together, their lips only millimetres apart. She could feel the sleeting rain trickle down Emma's forehead, the way their hands connected instantaneously. She could feel the frantic fall and rise of Emma's chest and she could smell the enchanting fragrance of the blonde's _Chanel, Coco Noir_ perfume. She closed her eyes, if only for a moment, and then opened them to find that Emma had closed hers too. Her brows pinched as she reached out with a tentative hand to cup the diva's cheek, sending a silent prey to the gods. _Give me strength._ "Emma?" she whispered, her breath a ghost against the student's swollen lips. When the diva's eyelashes fluttered but did not open, she swallowed hard, resisting the temptation to kiss Emma right there and then. _Don't pressure her_ , she reminded herself. Their newly established dynamic meant that if they wanted this to work, they would have to weather unfamiliar terrain, and the last thing she wanted to do was scare her student away for good. "Emma honey..."

The blonde's brow creased. There was a heavy, pregnant pause and then she adjusted her weight so that she could easily run her fingers through the loose tresses falling over the teacher's shoulder. "You called me honey."

Regina could hear the smile in her voice and that was killing her too. "Yeah, is that okay? I figured it was better than say Man-Hands or Little-Miss-Saviour. Much more loving and appropriate."

" _Honey_...I like that." Emma whispered, allowing her eyelashes to flutter closed against the warmth of Regina's touch. "I actually became quite fond of Saviour in the end. It was some of your most creative work I thought."

"I'm afraid all credit for that one has to go to Lydia." Regina squirmed, running her thumb along Emma's sharp jaw line. Neither of them expected the tremble and break of Regina's normally sharp voice, and so when Emma tipped her head upwards to finally meet the brunette's beautiful eyes, she was surprised by the depth and expression of their sadness. She gave a gentle nod as if to encourage the teacher to speak, but the she hesitated anyway, chewing her reddened lip between painfully white teeth. For a moment, Emma thought the moment for tepid vulnerability had passed, but then a single tear fell and she knew Regina was toying with the boundaries of being vulnerable. "I'm so sorry Emma." She whispered, her normally overbearing and confident voice threatening to crack.

"It's okay, Regina. I'm not going anywhere."

"But Emma, you know that I can't promise you the same thing, right?" The teacher glanced down at the empty New York street, squeezing her tired eyes shut. "I'm in way over my head here...with you. _With us_ , I mean. I really wish I could have protected you against myself, and I really hope that you never allowed my treatment of you to prevent you from achieving your dreams." She paused, just long enough to kiss away pain in Emma's face. "If it's of any comfort to you dear, I am in no less pain. But I am so very sorry Emma." She sniffed, trying hard to prevent more tears from falling, only to realise that the diva was crying too. The sound of her heavy heart cracking could have shattered the earth in it's intensity. More tears fell and through the blurred mask obscuring her vision, she realised that Emma was attempting a heart-breaking smile.

"Ms Mills, it's okay. I understand." She said softly, wondering if she'd single-handedly managed to reduce the former Cruella Deville into a broken mess. "I have never held you accountable for my failures nor have I ever seen you as someone who could jeopardise my dream. But please, look at me Regina..." With a little gentle prising and a few soft caresses, the teacher's ashamed gaze fell upon Emma's searching eyes, full of kindness and wonder. "Our history is important to me, okay? I understand that you have had a lot to contend with from a very young age and none of what you confronted throughout your career is relatable to me...yet. I have never been told that I am someone to be ashamed of or that I am not allowed to be myself; even if I _am_ as gay as the day is long -" She felt Regina's shoulder's begin to shake and Emma bit her lip to conceal her smile. "I can feel you laughing by the way..."

With that Regina's twinkling laugh grew bolder, until finally her brilliant eyes were smiling too. "Ms Mills, I 've always admired you. I only wish that we could have been friends instead of wasting the past year fighting over nothing."

"The way I expressed myself was wrong." Regina said, holding up her palm to prevent any preconceived interruptions. Emma nodded. It was. Absolutely. But then again, the majority of what was said in a world as dark as show business and overly inflated egos was wrong in some form or another. She couldn't exactly say she was the perfect student to have had around either. She had been stubborn and defiant on more than one occasion. Even Ruby liked to remind her of it over breakfast. She also liked to remind her that she was somewhat like a talking encyclopaedia by pretending to look for the mute button, but the difference was that people understood that all her manic, crazy, obsessiveness came from a good place. The right place. And she wouldn't have changed that for the world. Regina's situation was different and life had taunted her for many years without release. She had no way of escaping what she'd done or reaping the benefits of self-forgiveness until she gained forgiveness from those who had wronged her. She wasn't a crier and she never had been, but this was a huge and defining moment in her life. She'd waited years to unleash her regrets in a way that was both productive and well-received. As Emma looked as those soft, crimson eyes she realised that she was proud of Regina, for all her faults and darkness combined.

"I'll apologise for a lot of things, but I won't apologise for the way I feel towards you. I forgave you a _long_ time ago, Regina. Now I just need you to forgive yourself too."

Regina wiped another stray tear from the corner of her eye before tentatively reaching out and brushing her thumb carefully over the tips of Emma's enviously long eyelashes. Wet, unfallen tears stained her thumb, but she continued to caress the softness of Emma's cheeks and then the length of her jaw. Her thumb brushed against stained red lips, causing the diva's breath to hitch. It seemed so unfair - the teacher knew her so well, but there was a certain look, a quiet pause, a heavy breath that told her she knew nothing of the woman Regina had really become. It was frustrating to know the former Broadway sensation in the sense of the old her, but not be able to act upon that established comfort. When the brunette's parted lips brushed against hers, but didn't commit to the connection and their hands once again found each other, but remained loose and playful, she found herself pouting

"You know what's weird?"

"No, what?" Emma breathed, almost convinced that if she could just push herself up onto her tiptoes, she'd be able to capture those perfectly haunting lips with hers.

"This-" Regina dropped their entwined hands but moved impossibly closer, gesturing to herself and then Emma. "This. You and me I mean - It doesn't feel weird."

"I know."


	6. Chapter Six

**Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!**

 **This chapter is my gift to you for the holidays.**

 **I actually really enjoyed writing this chapter, but I'm thinking perhaps I should begin to wrap it up - What do you think?**

 **Let me know! Thank you so much for reading. The reviews I've received have been incredible and I'm so lucky to be inspired by such an amazing array of writers & readers alike. Enjoy! **

**P.S Not proof read (I'm sorry!) so all mistakes are my own and I will correct as I stop them.**

 **~{*}~{*}~{*}~**

Marian Wells was a wonderfully regal woman; tall and eloquently British, with soft grey hair and faded laughter lines. She wore thick-rimmed reading glasses on the tip of her nose, offsetting the blueness of her eyes, and she owned an impressive array of tailored suits, freshly pressed to boot. At some stage throughout her career, she had stopped being Mrs Wells and became 'Marian Wells,' at which point, like wings of a stately home, she'd closed off large sections of her personality to the public, reserving her warmth solely for TEP's academic family instead. She enjoyed not being completely approachable. Her office alone was intimidating enough. Faculty had to walk about a mile into the office before they'd arrive at her desk and it was vastly understood that the smooth, glossy interior was entirely intentional. Marian wasn't accessible to people she didn't need to be accessible to; including her staff. She was, however, fair of heart and Regina Mills had become quite accustomed to the fond reprimands routinely thrown her way.

Even whilst stood in the middle of a torrential snow storm, TEP's Headmistress was stoic and imposing, her black wrap coat tied in a knot at her waist. Her evening companion - a gentlemanly friend of similar age - wore an obnoxious three-piece suit, tailored specifically to match his salt and pepper hair. He held an overly large umbrella above their heads as they walked in cordial delight, hopping over icy puddles with easy grace. They enjoyed an amicable courtship, wandering through the Upper East Side with arms entwined. There was a politeness to the evening that was thankfully well-received, a genuine kindness that was very hard not to reciprocate. Any gentlemanly invitation to accompany Marian Wells home was usually met with polite insistence that she could find her way home _alone_ , but tonight, Marian was enjoying her annual date far more than predicted. So much so, in fact, she very almost strolled straight past her star student - pressed up against the canopy of a snow-topped willow - merely three metres away from her very own front door.

She stopped short, forcibly interrupting the amorous displays of affection with a deliberate cough. But then, when the bowed heads parted to reveal a suitably flustered Ms Mills readjusting her Hermes scarf, the headmistresses' previously smiling face was suddenly aghast. " _Ms Mills_?" she gasped, a decorated hand flying to her chest in surprise. "What are you _doing_ out here? And with Miss Swan I might add?"

Emma slammed her head back against the slippery bark, cursing violently under her breath. _Fuck, this was bad. Really fucking bad_. She shook out her hair, praying any leaves caught in her unruly tresses had fallen loose, and stepped out beside Ms Mills, looking suitably chastised. The brunette stood in line with Marian, appearing even more fragile than the glass ballerina sitting on Emma's dresser at home. The blonde let out a slow, controlled breath and attempted to loosen her body movements. Her eyes moved with the alertness that came from heavy stress and her hands remained clenched by subconscious demand.

"Ms Mills was just walking me to my apartment." Emma spluttered, as if by way of explanation. "Given the weather and all..."

"A curtesy that I'm sure you extend to _all_ campus students, Ms Mills..." The headmistress replied calmly, with a small, noticeable twitch of her upper lip.

"If it means they get home safely..."

"I quite agree." Marian nodded briskly, waving her long, slender wrist in a dismissive circle. "After all, teachers will always go above and beyond for their students."

"Always." Regina agreed, squirming uncomfortably. "But I'm sorry if we interrupted your evening, Marian -"

"No dear, that's quite alright. It's actually been quite... _enlightening_."

"Really, I just wanted to ensure that Miss Swan got home safely." Regina reasserted, holding her palms upwards in submission. The smooth rasp in her voice sounded steadier now; assured, even. "The winter showcase is coming up awfully quickly and we simply needed a little more time to perfect the routine, hence why we're so late leaving-"

"See! So it wasn't what it looked like-" Emma blurted, grimacing at the way her voice sounded so shrill and...decidedly _guilty_. She could feel the tension rolling of Ms Mills in waves and the effect it had on her insides was uncomfortably unpleasant. She shrugged. "I promise, it really wasn't..."

"No." Marian held up a silencing hand. "Perhaps not. But then again, I didn't suspect as much...You see, I have upmost faith in my faculty, Miss Swan. And I would hope that my Head of Musical Performance would not be quite so foolish as to indulge in any, shall we say, _afterschool activities_ with her students."

Regina's mind was starting to fail, like an engine being turned over and over, but never quite kicking into action. She couldn't formulate a single coherent thought and when she glanced over at Emma, the student was apparently fairing no better herself. Still, she couldn't rely on her student to pull her out of this mess head-first for it was she who had created it. She was supposed to be the responsible adult - a teacher - even though her actions tonight had failed to adhere to a single code of conduct. She pressed her nails into her palm nervously, offering Marian her best pacifying smile. "I'm more than aware of my responsibilities Ms Wells." She said, her voice frighteningly even and true, and yet still the headmistress could detect the merest hint of a challenge marring her carefully selected words. Regina turned to Emma, straightening her shoulders. "But now, if you'll excuse me Marian, I best be getting Miss Swan home. Classes start early in the morning and I can't afford to be late."

"If that's the case, then you can begin your morning routine in my office, Regina. 9am. _Sharp_."

Regina nodded silently, forcibly swallowing the cruel, thick bile rising in her throat. The modest tilt of Marian's head, coupled with the pinch of her brow told the brunette that she was dismissed, even if the headmistress was really hoping she'd spill her guts there and then. Instead, she bowed her head with a small, tight smile and prepared to turn on her heal, catching Emma's forearm softly. "Goodnight Ms Wells."

"Goodnight to you both." Marian said, squeezing her dates arm in silent apology. As much as she hoped to be proven wrong in the morning, only Regina could save herself if she was indeed guilty of the act Marian suspected. The sheer motion of teachers falling for their student's seemed extreme, but in Marian's experience, it happened a lot more regularly than one may think. She locked her jaw squarely, shaking her head in grim disappointment.

Together, Emma & Regina walked the rest of the way down East 76th Street in stunned silence, each woman processing the events carefully and woefully considering the consequences. Regina forced herself to take a deep breath; she was so close to crying - again - and had already decided that Emma did not need to witness her disturbingly emotional fall from grace. Together, they slipped into a form of intimacy which would be hard to recover from, and followed each other silently into the night storm. When they reached the subway station, Emma subconsciously reached for Regina's cold, shaking hand, clasping it tightly. "This is where I go." she said, chewing her bottom lip softly. When Regina didn't respond, she tugged a little firmer, only to be pulled into the brunette's embrace and swept straight past the subways' filthy entrance.

"Come with me tonight?"

For the first time since coming face to face with a huge double dosing of reality, Regina had made a definite and defining decision. She wouldn't be able to cope the night alone, tossing and turning over tomorrow's meeting, spewing her guts up until she was raw. She needed a distraction, and Emma was a welcome one.

Emma pressed a tiny, discreet kiss to the teacher's temple and smiled. "Like I said, I'm not going anywhere."

The warmth of the room caressed Emma's numb cheeks, ears, and nose, drawing her into to the slated hearth. It was quiet in the apartment, with hardly but the crackle of the fire to break the almost silence. Regina poured two small rum and cokes, casting a soft eye over the blonde's silhouette. Long, familiar shadows danced about the living room floor, warming the faux fur beneath their bare feet. The flames curled and swayed, flicking heat this way and that, crackling as they burned the dry wood. Emma watched in hypnotized joy, holding her hands out to get just a little bit more of the gentle heat.

The large, steel door that vaguely resembled an elevator stood motionless, locked up tightly against the cold. Regina had tied a festive wreath to it's frame with little, red ribbons, welcoming visitors into the vast expanse of cherry wood and fur rugs with a touch of Christmassy magic. The were very few internal walls; the entire space brimming with scented candles and tiny, dancing sculptures. The far side of the apartment was aligned with black, high-rise windows, not unlike those in her studio. Her bedroom, elevated almost directly above the living area, was the only available sleeping area she had. The bed was huge, wrapped in cotton white sheets, with clouds of gossamer floating down from the canopy to the floor. The whole apartment was sparsely decorated, but given it's impressive size, it still felt more like home than any city space Emma had ever occupied before. She'd noticed almost immediately that Regina kept no photos on the mantle piece, or in the kitchen. She had little to no personal belongings on display, and yet the apartment was still inexplicably... _Regina_. She even had a glossy, green kitchen, with an iconic island, and narrow black doors that opened into a tiny, hidden garden of sorts. Climbing roses and a small, round table occupied the space, gleaning out over the Soho district. A private space, just for her.

Regina sunk into the rick, cream sofa, silently nursing her rum and coke whilst Emma scanned through her DVD's, humming gently. Just as the first bite of cold wind crept under the teacher's blouse, Emma's hand moved around her middle, warm and soft. In seconds her body was moulded against Regina's, sharing her body heat as easily as she shared her heart. Her curious fingers curled into the fabric of her teacher's blouse, not clasping it tightly, but just enough to reassure her that she intended to stay. Against her dark, satin, grey leotard, the blonde's transparent skin was flawless, beautiful. The teacher could never let another close to her like that, but Emma was so different. She'd never known a person to always have the right motivations, even when she was wrong. There was an innate purity to her, naivety perhaps, but she was the only flower in the meadow where Ms Mills was concerned.

"Don't look so sad." Emma pouted, poking at Regina's waist playfully. She endeavoured to hold her teacher even closer, brushing a strand of dark brown hair away from her worried face. Regina sipped from her tumbler dejectedly and buried her face in Emma's chest, groaning inwardly. "Let's watch a movie."

Emma stood up and picked out a film, moving to join the brunette back on the couch. She smiled as Regina eagerly wrapped her arms around her waist, once again burying her head against her chest. "Isn't this better?" the blonde asked sweetly, stroking soft, even lines over the swell of Regina's bicep. The teacher barely nodded, her tired eyes slipping closed.

Emma grinned softly, tugging needlessly at the thick, woollen blanket draped over the back of the sofa. She remained still once Regina was wrapped up tightly, still pressed against her side. She loved to touch her - never in a sexual way, never anywhere other than her face, her hands, her obsidian hair that fell in tousled locks. The older woman's warmth seeped into Emma's being and comforted her without ever opening her mouth. Previously, Emma had spent so long without touch - without intimacy - that she no longer wanted it. It was an invasion of privacy, an unwanted intimacy. She sighed heavily, pressing bruised lips to her teacher's temple. Now, with Ms Mills, it was a delicious and necessary need. One that she did not want to have to go without.

They watched the first thirty minuets of American Sniper unfold in silence, the weight of it's premise sparring them from dealing with their own messed up situation. Regina's weary eyes continued to flutter closed, even though her body was hyper-aware of the blonde's sweet caress. Ordinarily, she'd be pacing her apartment by now, planning her morning meeting with Marian Wells down to the last, very specific detail. She'd have an alibi set out by now, a reasonable excuse for her varying degrees of inappropriate behaviour. There would be a moment of madness as she stressed over what to wear, and then she'd drink herself into stupor, convinced that Marian Wells knew her worth was far more superior to her many flaws. Ultimately, she wouldn't have been wrapped up, warm and safe in Emma's arms, but rather cold and passed out on the stairs. Almost opaque in the light of the fire, Regina allowed her eyes to droop shut. Sleep came to her like the falling of an axe. Sharp and instant.

When Regina awoke, slow and groggy, she was surprised to find Emma standing in her kitchen, rifling through a plastic bag.

"What's in the bag, Swan?" Regina enquired, placing a cautious hand on Emma's hip as she peered over the blonde's shoulder.

"I know it's late, but I'm going to make you some pancakes." Emma announced fondly. "Your stomach was putting up a fight over there."

Regina's laden heart clenched at the sight of her student unpacking a myriad of fresh fruit and she smiled softly, squeezing the hips beneath her fingertips.

"You don't have to do that," she begun to protest, but then Emma fixed her with a look that said _'try and stop me'_ and so she backed off, hands held high in mock submission.

"Ok, fine." Regina conceded, returning to the living area to collect their previously neglected beverages. "Then how much I owe you?"

"You don't owe me anything, Ms Mills." Emma said with frown, genuinely befuddled by the question.

"I may be out of a job, Emma, but I'm not a charity case, and I'm pretty sure you're more broke then I am. So how much do I owe you?"

"Oh my _god!_ Regina. You put your fucking career on the line for me tonight. Will you please just let me take care of you?"

Surprised by the sudden glitch of stubbornness displayed by her favourite diva, Regina tried not to laugh when she found herself on the receiving end of a fearsome glare. She bit her lip and smirked, placing the glasses down on the drainage board before hesitantly backing away. "Ok, fine. I'll just go and park my ass on the couch then, shall I?"

"Yes, you do that," Emma said with a fake primness, watching Regina saunter away with a smirk on her lips. "Regina?" She ventured hesitantly, gesturing to the stereo system. "Would it be okay if I put some music on? I'll keep the volume down, of course."

"Knock yourself out," Regina acquiesced, pouring herself another heavenly glass of Rum & Coke. "The CD's are in the storage unit over there. But then again, you probably know that already." She teased, laughing when Emma narrowed her eyes. "Oh, and Emma? No singing along, Ok? My head is pounding enough as it is."

Grinning, Regina made her way towards the cherry oak desk that stood adjacent to the living area, collecting her laptop before collapsing back onto the sofa. She curled into ball, pulling her knees close, and tried to adjust to sound of someone pottering around her kitchen. Emma might have been out of sight, but Regina was still hyper-aware of her presence, and it wasn't as claustrophobic as she had expected it to be. Even as they'd walked through New York, arm in arm, with Emma snuggled into her side, she hadn't felt smothered. She'd felt...well, she didn't really want to think about how she'd felt, because then she'd have had to acknowledge that Emma wasn't invading her space - _she was filling a void._

With a knowing sigh, Regina dragged open her browser in the hope that perhaps Julliard, Tisch or AMDA were miraculously in the market for a new Musical Performance teacher. But really, she was just kidding herself. With her reputation preceding her - and not in a good way - she knew her chances of finding a new position were slim. Even if Marian gave her a glowing reference, Regina knew she'd be lucky to find another prestigious arts college willing to take a chance on her. That meant, in the light of day, she would most likely be forced into some high-school drama department, fending of the advances of acne-ridden, horny teenage boys. She'd already decided; she'd rather jump of Brooklyn Bridge than spend her life humouring spoilt brats with hardly an iota of her talent. _Shit-creak, here comes Ms Mills._


End file.
